•iirf leT 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CAlirOHNIA    , 


<5njjlt0l)  Mtn  of  fetters 

EDITED  BY  JOHN  MOKLEY 


DANIEL  DEFOE 


2)aniel  2)efoe 


by 
WILLIAM    MINTO 

LATE  PROFESSOR  OF  LOGIC  AND  ENGLISH  AT  ABERDEEN 


iBnQlisb  /Ren  of  Xetters 

EDITED  BY 

JOHN   MORLEY 


HARPER   &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

NEW     YORK     AND     LONDON 
1902 


M^ 


PREFACE. 

There  are  three  considerable  biographies  of  Defoe — the 
first,  by  George  Chalmers,  published  in  1786;  the  second 
by  Walter  Wilson,  published  in  1830 ;  the  third,  by  Wil- 
liam Lee,  published  in  1869.  All  three  are  thorough  and 
painstaking  works,  justified  by  independent  research  and 
discovery.  The  labour  of  research  in  the  case  of  an  au- 
thor supposed  to  have  written  some  two  hundred  and  fifty 
separate  books  and  pamphlets,  very  few  of  them  under 
his  own  name,  is  naturally  enormous ;  and  when  it  is  done, 
the  results  are  open  to  endless  dispute.  Probably  two 
men  could  not  be  found  who  would  read  through  the 
vast  mass  of  contemporary  anonymous  and  pseudonymous 
print,  and  agree  upon  a  complete  list  of  Defoe's  writings. 
Fortunately,  however,  for  those  who  wish  to  get  a  clear 
idea  of  his  life  and  character,  the  identification  is  not  pure 
guess-work  on  internal  evidence.  He  put  his  own  name 
or  initials  to  some  of  his  productions,  and  treated  the  au- 
thorship of  others  as  open  secrets.  Enough  is  ascertained 
as  his  to  provide  us  with  the  means  for  a  complete  under- 
standing of  his  opinions  and  his  conduct.     It  is  Defoe's 


'~^ 


▼I  PREFACE. 

misfortune  that  liis  biographers  on  the  large  scale  have 
occupied  themselves  too  much  with  subordinate  details, 
and  have  been  misled  from  a  true  appreciation  of  his 
main  lines  of  thought  and  action  by  religious,  political, 
and  hero-worshipping  bias.  For  the  following  sketch, 
taking  Mr.  Lee's  elaborate  work  as  my  chronological 
guide,  I  have  read  such  of  Defoe's  undoubted  writings  as 
are  accessible  in  the  Library  of  the  British  Museum — 
there  is  no  complete  collection,  I  believe,  in  existence — 
and  endeavoured  to  connect  them  and  him  with  the  his- 
tory of  the  time. 

W.  M. 


CONTENTS. 


C 11  AFTER  1. 

TAQlt 


DEFOE'S  YOUTH  AND  KARLY  PURSUITS 


CHAPTER  IL 

KING   WILLIAM'S   ADJUTANT 13 


CHAPTER  III. 

MAKTYR  TO  DISSENT  ? 30 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE    .   .   .   .51 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ADVOCATE   OF   PEACE   AND   UNION 62 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DR.  SACHEVERELL.  AND  TITR  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT      .      73 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAOB 
DIFFICULTIES  IN  RE-CHAA'GING  SIDES 103 

CHAPTER  VUI. 

LATER  JOURNALISTIC  LABOURS 115 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  PLACE  OF   DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  HIS  LIFE        .       ,.       ,       130 

CHAPTER  X. 

HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END ,        .        .       155 


DANIEL  DEFOE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

defoe's  youth  axd  early  pursuits. 

The  life  of  a  man  of  letters  is  not  as  a  rule  eventfuL 
It  may  be  rich  in  spiritual  experiences,  but  it  seldom  is 
rich  in  active  adventure.  We  ask  his  biographer  to  tell 
us  what  were  his  habits  of  composition,  how  he  talked, 
how  he  bore  himself  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties  to  his 
family,  his  neighbors,  and  himself ;  what  were  his  beliefs 
on  the  great  questions  that  concern  humanity.  We  de- 
sire to  know  what  he  said  and  wrote,  not  what  he  did  be- 
yond the  study  and  the  domestic  or  the  social  circle.  The 
chief  external  facts  in  his  career  are  the  dates  of  the  pub- 
lication of  his  successive  books. 

Daniel  Defoe  is  an  exception  to  this  rule.  He  was  a 
man  of  action  as  well  as  a  man  of  letters.  The  writing 
of  the  books  which  have  given  him  immortality  was  little 
more  than  an  accident  in  his  career,  a  comparatively  tri- 
fling and  casual  item  in  the  total  expenditure  of  his  many- 
sided  energy.  He  was  nearly  sixty  when  he  wrote  Robin- 
son Crusoe.  Before  that  event  he  had  been  a  rebel,  a  mer- 
28 


2  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

chant,  a  manufacturer,  a  writer  of  popular  satires  in  verse, 
a  bankrupt;  had  acted  as  secretary  to  a  public  commis- 
sion, been  employed  in  secret  services  by  five  successive 
Administrations,  written  innumerable  pamphlets,  and  edit- 
ed more  than  one  newspaper.  He  had  led,  in  fact,  as  ad- 
venturous a  life  as  any  of  his  own  heroes,  and  had  met 
quickly  succeeding  difficulties  with  equally  ready  and  fer- 
tile ingenuity. 

For  many  of  the  incidents  in  Defoe's  life  we  are  indebt- 
ed to  himself.  He  had  all  the  vaingloriousness  of  exuber- 
ant vitality,  and  was  animated  in  the  recital  of  his  own 
adventures.  Scattered  throughout  his  various  works  are 
the  materials  for  a  tolerably  complete  autobiography.  This 
is  in  one  respect  an  advantage  for  any  one  who  attempts 
to  give  an  account  of  his  life.  But  it  has  a  counterbalanc- 
ing disadvantage  in  the  circumstance  that  there  is  grave 
reason  to  doubt  his  veracity,  Defoe  was  a  great  story-tell- 
er in  more  senses  than  one.  We  can  hardly  believe  a 
word  that  he  says  about  himself  without  independent  con- 
firmation. 

Defoe  was  born  in  London,  in  1661.  It  is  a  character- 
istic circumstance  that  his  name  is  not  his  own,  except  in 
the  sense  that  it  was  assumed  by  himself.  The  name  of 
his  father,  who  was  a  butcher  in  the  parish  of  St.  Giles, 
Cripplegate,  was  Foe.  His  grandfather  was  a  Northamp- 
tonshire yeoman.  In  his  True  Born  Englishman,  Defoe 
spoke  very  contemptuously  of  families  that  professed  to 
have  come  over  with  "  the  Norman  bastard,"  defying  them 
to  prove  whether  their  ancestors  were  drummers  or  col- 
onels; but  apparently  he  was  not  above  the  vanity  of 
making  the  world  believe  that  he  himself  was  of  Norman- 
French  origin.  Yet  such  was  the  restless  energy  of  the 
man  that  he  could  not  leave  even  his  adopted  name  alone ; 


I.]  DEFOE'S  YOUTH  AND  EARLY  riTRSUITS.  3 

he  seems  to  have  been  about  forty  when  he  first  changed 
his  signature  "D.  Foe"  into  the  surname  of  "Defoe;"  but 
his  patient  biograplier,  Mr.  Lee,  has  found  several  later  in- 
stances of  his  subscribing  himself  "  D.  Foe,"  "  D.  F.,"  and 
"  De  Foe "  in  alternation  with  the  "  Daniel  De  Foe,"  or 
"  Daniel  Defoe,"  which  has  become  his  accepted  name  in 
literature. 

In  middle  age,  when  Defoe  was  taunted  with  his  want 
of  learning,  he  retorted  that  if  he  was  a  blockhead  it  was 
not  the  fa'ult  of  his  father,  who  had  "  spared  nothing  in  his 
education  that  might  qualify  him  to  match  the  accurate 
Dr.  Browne,  or  the  learned  Observator."  Ilis  father  was 
a  Nonconformist,  a  member  of  the  congregation  of  Dr. 
Annesley,  and  the  son  was  originally  intended  for  the  Dis- 
senting ministry.  "  It  was  his  disaster,"  he  said  after- 
wards, "  first  to  be  set  apart  for,  and  then  to  be  set  apart 
from,  that  sacred  employ."  He  was  placed  at  an  academy 
for  the  training  of  ministers  at  the  age,  it  is  supposed,  of 
about  fourteen,  and  probably  remained  there  for  the  full 
course  of  five  years.  He  has  himself  explained  why,  when 
his  training  was  completed,  he  did  not  proceed  to  the  of- 
fice of  the  pulpit,  but  changed  his  views  and  resolved  to 
engage  in  business  as  a  hose-merchant.  The  sum  of  the 
explanation  is  that  the  ministry  seemed  to  him  at  that 
time  to  be  neither  honourable,  agreeable,  nor  profitable. 
It  was  degraded,  he  thought,  by  the  entrance  of  men  who 
had  neither  physical  nor  intellectual  qualification  for  it, 
who  had  received  out  of  a  denominational  fund  only  such 
an  education  as  made  them  pedants  rather  than  Christian 
gentlemen  of  high  learning,  and  who  had  consequently  to 
submit  to  shameful  and  degrading  practices  in  their  efforts 
to  obtain  congregations  and  subsistence.  Besides,  the  be- 
haviour of  congregations  to  their  ministers,  who  were  de- 


4  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

pendent,  was  often  objectionable  and  un-Christian.  And 
finally,  far-flown  birds  having  fine  feathers,  the  prizes  of 
the  ministry  in  London  were  generally  given  to  strangers, 
"eminent  ministers  called  from  all  parts  of  England," 
some  even  from  Scotland,  finding  acceptance  in  the  me- 
tropolis before  having  received  any  formal  ordination. 

Though  the  education  of  his  "fund-bred  "  companions, 
as  he  calls  them,  at  Mr.  Morton's  Academy  in  Newington 
Green,  was  such  as  to  excite  Defoe's  contempt,  he  bears 
testimony  to  Mr.  Morton's  excellence  as  a  teacher,  and  in- 
stances the  names  of  several  pupils  who  did  credit  to  his 
labours.  In  one  respect  Mr.  Morton's  system  was  better 
than  that  which  then  prevailed  at  the  Universities;  all 
dissertations  were  written  and  all  disputations  held  in 
English ;  and  hence  it  resulted,  Defoe  says,  that  his  pupils, 
though  they  were  "  not  destitute  in  the  languages,"  were 
"  made  masters  of  the  English  tongue,  and  more  of  them 
excelled  in  that  particular  than  of  any  school  at  that  time." 
Whether  Defoe  obtained  at  Newington  the  rudiments  of 
all  the  learning  which  he  afterwards  claimed  to  be  pos- 
sessed of,  we  do  not  know ;  but  the  taunt  frequently  lev- 
elled at  him  by  University  men  of  being  an  "  illiterate  fel- 
low "  and  no  scholar,  was  one  that  he  bitterly  resented, 
and  that  drew  from  him  many  protestations  and  retorts. 
In  1705,  he  angrily  challenged  John  Tutchin  "to  translate 
with  him  any  Latin,  French,  or  Italian  author,  and  after 
that  to  retranslate  them  crosswise  for  twenty  pounds  each 
book ;"  and  he  replied  to  Swift,  who  had  spoken  of  him 
scornfully  as  "  an  illiterate  fellow,  whose  name  I  forget," 
that  "  he  had  been  in  his  time  pretty  well  master  of  five 
languages,  and  had  not  lost  them  yet,  though  he  wrote  no 
bill  at  his  door,  nor  set  Latin  quotations  on  the  front  of 
the  Review.''''    To  the  end  of  his  days  Defoe  could  not 


I.]  DEFOE'S  YOUTH  AKD  EARLY  PURSUITS.  6 

forget  this  taunt  of  want  of  learning.  In  one  of  the 
papers  in  Applehee's  Journal  identified  by  Mr.  Lee  (below, 
Chapter  VIII.),  he  discussed  what  is  to  be  understood  by 
"learning,"  and  drew  the  following  sketch  of  his  own 
attainments : — 

"I  remember  an  Author  in  the  World  some  years  ago, 
who  was  generally  upbraided  with  Ignorance,  and  called  an 
'  Illiterate  Fellow,'  by  some  of  the  Beau-Monde  of  the  last 
Age.  .  .  . 

"  I  happened  to  come  into  this  Person's  Study  once,  and  I 
found  him  busy  translating  a  Description  of  the  Course  of 
the  River  Boristhenes,  out  of  Bleau's  Geography,  written  in 
Spanish.  Another  Time  I  found  him  translating  some  Latin 
Paragraphs  out  of  Leiibinits  Theatri  Cometici,  being  a  learned 
Discourse  upon  Comets ;  and  that  I  might  see  whether  it  was 
genuine,  I  looked  on  some  part  of  it  that  he  had  finished, 
and  found  by  it  that  he  understood  the  Latin  very  well,  and 
had  perfectly  taken  the  sense  of  that  difficult  Author.  In 
short,  I  found  he  understood  the  Latin,  the  Spanish,  the  Ital- 
ian, and  could  read  the  Oreeh,  and  I  knew  before  that  he 
spoke  French  fluently — yet  this  Man  was  no  Scholar. 

"As  to  Science,  on  another  Occasion,  I  heard  him  dispute 
(in  such  a  manner  as  surprised  me)  upon  the  motions  of  the 
Heavenly  Bodies,  the  Distance,  Magnitude,  Revolutions,  and 
especially  the  Influences  of  the  Planets,  the  Nature  and  prob- 
able Revolutions  of  Comets,  the  excellency  of  the  New  Phi- 
losophy, and  the  like ;  but  this  Man  teas  no  Scholar. 

"  In  Geography  and  History  he  had  all  the  World  at  his 
Finger's  ends.  He  talked  of  the  most  distant  Countries  with 
an  inimitable  Exactness;  and  changing  from  one  Place  to 
another,  the  Company  thought,  of  every  Place  or  Country  he 
named,  that  certainly  he  must  have  been  bom  there.  He 
knew  not  only  where  every  Thing  was,  but  what  everybody 
did  in  every  Part  of  the  World ;  I  mean,  what  Businesses, 
what  Trade,  what  Manufacture,  was  carrying  on  in  every  Part 


6  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

of  the  "World ;  and  had  the  History  of  almost  all  the  Nations 
of  the  World  in  his  Head — yet  this  Man  was  no  Scholar. 

"  This  put  me  upon  wondering,  ever  so  long  ago,  what  this 
strange  Thing  called  a  Man  of  Learning  was,  and  what  is  it 
that  constitutes  a  Scholar  ?  For,  said  J,  here's  a  man  speaks 
five  Languages  and  reads  the  Sixth,  is  a  master  of  Astron- 
omy, Geography,  History,  and  abundance  of  other  useful 
Knowledge  (which  I  do  not  mention,  that  you  may  not  guess 
at  the  Man,  who  is  too  Modest  to  desire  it),  and  yet,  they  say 
this  Man  is  no  Scholar. '''' 

How  much  of  this  learning  Defoe  acquired  at  school, 
and  how  much  he  picked  up  afterwards  under  the  press- 
ure of  the  necessities  of  his  business,  it  is  impossible  to 
determine,  but  at  any  rate  it  was  at  least  as  good  a  qualifi- 
cation for  writing  on  public  affairs  as  the  more  limited 
and  accurate  scholarship  of  his  academic  rivals.  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  when  he 
passed  from  Mr.  Morton's  tuition,  qualified  but  no  longer 
"willing  to  become  a  Dissenting  preacher,  he  did  not  allow 
it  to  rust  unused ;  he  at  once  mobilised  his  forces  for  ac- 
tive ser\'ice.  They  were  keen  politicians,  naturally,  at  the 
Newington  Academy,  and  the  times  furnished  ample  ma- 
terials for  their  discussions.  As  Nonconformists  they 
were  very  closely  affected  by  the  struggle  between  Charles 
II.  and  the  defenders  of  Protestantism  and  popular  liber- 
ties. What  part  Defoe  took  in  the  excitement  of  the 
closing  years  of  the  reign  of  Charles  must  be  matter  of 
conjecture,  but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  he  was  active 
on  the  popular  side.  He  had  but  one  difference  then,  he 
afterwards  said  in  one  of  his  tracts,  with  his  party.  He 
would  not  join  them  in  wishing  for  the  success  of  the 
Turks  in  besieging  Vienna,  because,  though  the  Austrians 
•were  Papists,  and  though  the  Turks  were  ostensibly  on  the 


1.]  DEFOE'S  YOUTH  AND  EARLY  PURSUITS.  7 

side  of  tlie  Hungarian  reformers  whom  the  Austrian  Gov- 
ernment had  persecuted,  he  had  read  the  history  of  the 
Turks  and  could  not  pray  for  their  victory  over  Christians 
of  any  denomination.  "  Though  then  but  a  young  man, 
and  a  younger  author"  (this  was  in  1683),  "he  opposed 
it  and  wrote  against  it,  which  was  taken  very  unkindly  in- 
deed." From  these  words  it  would  seem  that  Defoe  had 
thus  early  begun  to  write  pamphlets  on  questions  of  the 
hour.  As  he  was  on  the  weaker  side,  and  any  writing 
might  have  cost  him  his  life,  it  is  probable  that  he  did  not 
put  his  name  to  any  of  these  tracts ;  none  of  them  have 
been  identified ;  but  his  youth  was  strangely  unlike  his 
mature  manhood  if  he  was  not  justified  in  speaking  of 
himself  as  having  been  then  an  "  author."  Nor  was  he 
content  merely  with  writing.  It  would  have  been  little 
short  of  a  miracle  if  his  restless  energy  had  allowed  him 
to  lie  quiet  while  the  air  was  thick  with  political  intrigue. 
We  may  be  sure  that  he  had  a  voice  in  some  of  the  secret 
associations  in  which  plans  were  discussed  of  armed  re- 
sistance to  the  tyranny  of  the  King.  We  have  his  own 
word  for  it  that  he  took  part  in  the  Duke  of  Monmouth's 
rising,  when  the  whips  of  Charles  were  exchanged  for  the 
scorpions  of  James.  He  boasted  of  this  when  it  became 
safe  to  do  so,  and  the  truth  of  the  boast  derives  incidental 
confirmation  from  the  fact  that  the  names  of  three  of  his 
fellow-students  at  Newington  appear  in  the  list  of  the  vic- 
tims of  Jeifreys  and  Kirke. 

Escaping  the  keen  hunt  that  was  made  for  all  partici- 
pators in  the  rebellion,  Defoe,  towards  the  close  of  1685, 
began  business  as  a  hosier  or  hose -factor  in  Freeman's 
Court,  Cornhill.  The  precise  nature  of  his  trade  has  been 
disputed ;  and  it  does  not  particularly  concern  us  here. 
^Yhen  taunted  afterwards  with  having  been  apprentice  to 


8  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [cha?. 

a  hosier,  he  indignantly  denied  the  fact,  and  explained  that 
though  he  had  been  a  trader  in  hosiery  he  had  never  been 
a  shopkeeper.  A  passing  illustration  in  his  Essay  on  Proj- 
ects, drawn  from  his  own  experience,  shows  that  he  im- 
ported goods  in  the  course  of  his  business  from  abroad; 
he  speaks  of  sometimes  having  paid  more  in  insurance  pre- 
mios  than  he  had  cleared  by  a  voyage.  From  a  story 
which  he  tells  in  his  Complete  English  Tradesman,  recall- 
ing the  cleverness  with  which  he  defeated  an  attempt  to 
outwit  him  about  a  consignment  of  brandy,  we  learn  that 
his  business  sometimes  took  him  to  Spain.  This  is  near- 
ly all  that  we  know  about  his  first  adventure  in  trade,  ex- 
cept that  after  seven  years,  in  1692,  he  had  to  flee  from 
his  creditors.  He  hints  in  one  of  his  Reviews  that  this 
misfortune  was  brought  about  by  the  frauds  of  swindlers, 
and  it  deserves  to  be  recorded  that  he  made  the  honourable 
boast  that  he  afterwards  paid  off  his  obligations.  The 
truth  of  the  boast  is  independently  confirmed  by  the  ad- 
mission of  a  controversial  enemy,  that  very  Tutchin  whom 
he  challenged  to  translate  Latin  with  him.  That  Defoe 
should  have  referred  so  little  to  his  own  experience  in  the 
Complete  English  Tradesman,  a  series  of  Familiar  Letters 
which  he  published  late  in  life  "  for  the  instrnction  of  our 
Inland  Tradesmen,  and  especially  of  Young  Beginners,"  is 
accounted  for  when  we  observe  the  class  of  persons  to 
whom  the  letters  were  addressed.  He  distinguishes  with 
his  usual  clearness  between  the  different  ranks  of  those  em- 
ployed in  the  production  and  exchange  of  goods,  and  inti- 
mates that  his  advice  is  not  intended  for  the  highest  grade 
of  traders,  the  merchants,  whom  he  defines  by  what  he  calls 
the  vulgar  expression,  as  being  "  such  as  trade  beyond  sea." 
Although  he  was  eloquent  in  many  books  and  pamphlets 
in  upholding  the  dignity  of  trade,  and  lost  no  opportunity 


I.]  DEFOE'S  YOUTH  AND  E.\JILY  PURSUITS.  9 

of  scoffing  at  pretentious  gentility,  be  never  allows  us  to 
forget  that  this  was  the  grade  to  which  he  himself  be- 
longed, and  addresses  the  petty  trader  from  a  certain  alti- 
tude. 'He  speaks  in  the  preface  to  the  Complete  Trades- 
man of  unfortunate  creatures  who  have  blown  themselves 
up  in  trade,  whether  "  for  want  of  wit  or  from  too  much 
wit ;"  but  lest  he  should  be  supposed  to  allude  to  his  own 
misfortunes,  he  does  not  say  that  he  miscarried  himself,  but 
that  he  "  had  seen  in  a  few  years'  experience  many  young 
tradesmen  miscarry."  At  the  same  time  it  is  fair  to  con- 
jecture that  when  Defoe  warns  the  young  tradesman  against 
fancying  himself  a  politician  or  a  man  of  letters,  running  off 
to  the  coffee-house  when  he  ought  to  be  behind  the  count- 
er, and  reading  Virgil  and  Horace  when  he  should  be  busy 
over  his  journal  and  his  ledger,  he  was  glancing  at  some  of 
the  causes  which  conduced  to  his  own  failure  as  a  mer- 
chant. And  when  he  cautions  the  beginner  against  going 
too  fast,  and  holds  up  to  him  as  a  type  and  exemplar  the 
carrier's  waggon,  which  "  keeps  wagging  and  always  goes 
on,"  and  "  as  softly  as  it  goes  "  can  yet  in  time  go  far,  we 
may  be  sure  that  he  was  thinking  of  the  over-rashness  with 
which  he  had  himself  embarked  in  speculation. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  eager  and  active  as  Defoe 
was  in  his  trading  enterprises,  he  was  not  so  wrapt  up 
in  them  as  to  be  an  unconcerned  spectator  of  the  intense 
political  life  of  the  time,  When  King  James  aimed  a 
blow  at  the  Church  of  England  by  removing  the  religious 
disabilities  of  all  dissenters,  Protestant  and  Catholic,  in 
his  Declaration  of  Indulgence,  some  of  Defoe's  co-religion- 
ists were  ready  to  catch  at  the  boon  without  thinking  of 
its  consequences.  He  differed  from  them,  he  afterwards 
stated,  and  "as  he  used  to  say  that  he  had  rather  the 
Popish  House  of  Austria  should  ruin  the  Protestants  in 


10  D.1XIEL  DEFOE.  [chap, 

Hungaria,  than  tKe  infidel  House  of  Ottoman  should  ruin 
both  Protestants  and  Papists  by  overrunning  Germany," 
so  now  "  he  told  the  Dissenters  he  had  rather  the  Church 
of  England  should  pull  our  clothes  oflE  by  fines  and  for- 
feitures, than  the  Papists  should  fall  both  upon  the  Church 
and  the  Dissenters,  and  pull  our  skins  off  by  fire  and  fag- 
got." He  probably  embodied  these  conclusions  of  his 
vigorous  common  sense  in  a  pamphlet,  though  no  pam- 
phlet on  the  subject  known  for  certain  to  be  his  has  been 
preserved.  Mr.  Lee  is  over-rash  in  identifying  as  Defoe's 
a  quarto  sheet  of  that  date  entitled  "A  Letter  containing 
some  Reflections  on  His  Majesty's  declaration  for  Liberty 
of  Conscience."  Defoe  may  have  written  many  pamphlets 
on  the  stirring  events  of  the  time,  which  have  not  come 
down  to  us.  It  may  have  been  then  that  he  acquired,  or 
made  a  valuable  possession  by  practice,  that  marvellous 
facility  with  his  pen  which  stood  him  in  such  stead  in 
after-life.  It  would  be  no  wonder  if  he  wrote  dozens  of 
pamphlets,  every  one  of  which  disappeared.  The  pam- 
phlet then  occupied  the  place  of  the  newspaper  leading  arti- 
cle. The  newspapers  of  the  time  were  veritable  chronicles 
of  news,  and  not  organs  of  opinion.  The  expression  of 
opinion  was  not  then  associated  with  the  dissemination  of 
facts  and  rumours.  A  man  who  wished  to  influence  public 
opinion  wrote  a  pamphlet,  small  or  large,  a  single  leaf  or  a 
tract  of  a  few  pages,  and  had  it  hawked  about  the  streets 
and  sold  in  the  bookshops.  These  pamphlets  issued  from 
the  press  in  swarms,  were  thrown  aside  when  read,  and 
hardly  preserved  except  by  accident.  That  Defoe,  if  he 
wrote  any  or  many,  should  not  have  reprinted  them  when 
fifteen  years  afterwards  he  published  a  collection  of  his 
works,  is  intelligible;  he  republished  only  such  of  his 
tracts  as  had  not  lost  their  practical  interest.     If,  however. 


r.]  DEFOE'S  YOUTH  AND  EARLY  PURSUITS.  11 

we  indulge  in  the  fancy,  warranted  so  far  by  his  describing 
himself  as  having  been  a  young  "author"  in  1G83,  that 
Defoe  took  an  active  part  in  polemical  literature  under 
Charles  and  James,  we  must  remember  that  the  censorship 
of  the  press  was  then  active,  and  that  Defoe  must  have 
published  under  greater  disadvantages  than  those  who 
wrote  on  the  side  of  the  Court. 

At  the  Revolution,  in  1688,  Defoe  lost  no  time  in  making 
his  adhesion  to  the  new  monarch  conspicuous.  He  was, 
according  to  Oldmixon,  one  of  "  a  royal  regiment  of  vol- 
unteer horse,  made  up  of  the  chief  citizens,  who,  being 
gallantly  mounted  and  richly  accoutred,  were  led  by  the 
Earl  of  Monmouth,  now  Earl  of  Peterborough,  and  at- 
tended their  Majesties  from  Whitehall "  to  a  banquet  given 
by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Corporation  of  the  City.  Three 
years  afterwards,  on  the  occasion  of  the  Jacobite  plot  in 
which  Lord  Preston  was  the  leading  figure,  he  published 
the  first  pamphlet  that  is  known  for  certain  to  be  his.  It 
is  in  verse,  and  is  entitled  A  New  Discovery  of  an  Old 
Intrigue,  a  Satire  levelled  at  Treachery  and  Ambition.  In 
the  preface,  the  author  said  that  "  he  had  never  drawn  his 
pen  before,"  and  that  he  would  never  write  again  unless 
this  effort  produced  a  visible  reformation.  If  we  take  this 
literally,  we  must  suppose  that  his  claim  to  have  been  an 
author  eighteen  years  before  had  its  origin  in  his  fitful 
vanity.  The  literary  merits  of  the  satire,  when  we  com- 
pare it  with  the  powerful  verse  of  Dryden's  Absalom  and 
Achitophel,  to  which  he  refers  in  the  exordium,  are  not 
great.  Defoe  prided  himself  upon  his  verse,  and  in  a 
catalogue  of  the  Poets  in  one  of  his  later  pieces  assigned 
himself  the  special  province  of  "  lampoon."  He  possibly 
believed  that  his  clever  doggerel  was  a  better  title  to  im- 
mortality than  Robinson  Crusoe.     The  immediate  popular 


12  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap.  i. 

effect  of  bis  satires  gave  some  encouragement  to  this  be- 
lief, but  tbey  are  comparatively  dull  reading  for  posterity. 
The  clever  hits  at  living  City  functionaries,  indicated  by 
their  initials  and  nicknames,  the  rough  ridicule  and  the 
biting  innuendo,  were  telling  in  their  day,  but  the  lampoons 
have  perished  with  their  objects.  The  local  celebrity  of 
Sir  Ralph  and  Sir  Peter,  Silly  Will  and  Captain  Tom  the 
Tailor,  has  vanished,  and  Defoe's  hurried  and  formless 
lines,  incisive  as  their  vivid  force  must  have  been,  are  not 
redeemed  from  dulness  for  modern  readers  by  the  few 
briirht  epigrams  with  which  they  are  besprinkled. 


CHAPTER  a 

KING  William's  adjutant. 

Defoe's  fii-st  business  catastrophe  happened  about  1692. 
He  is  said  to  have  temporarily  absconded,  and  to  have 
parleyed  with  his  creditors  from  a  distance  till  they  agreed 
to  accept  a  composition.  Bristol  is  named  as  having  been 
his  place  of  refuge,  and  there  is  a  story  that  he  was  known 
there  as  the  Sunday  Gentleman,  because  he  appeared  on 
that  day,  and  that  day  only,  in  fashionable  attire,  being 
kept  indoors  during  the  rest  of  the  week  by  fear  of  the 
bailiffs.  But  he  was  of  too  buoyant  a  temperament  to  sink 
under  his  misfortune  from  the  sense  of  having  brought 
it  on  himself,  and  the  cloud  soon  passed  away.  A  man 
so  fertile  in  expedients,  and  ready,  according  to  his  own 
ideal  of  a  thoroughbred  trader,  to  turn  himself  to  any- 
thing, could  not  long  remain  unemployed.  He  had  vari- 
ous business  offers,  and  among  others  an  invitation  from 
some  merchants  to  settle  at  Cadiz  as  a  commission  agent, 
"  with  offers  of  very  good  commissions."  But  Providence, 
he  tells  us,  and,  we  may  add,  a  shrewd  confidence  in 
his  own  powers,  "placed  a  secret  aversion  in  his  mind 
to  quitting  England  upon  any  account,  and  made  him  re- 
fuse the  best  offers  of  that  kind."  He  stayed  at  home, 
"  to  be  concerned  with  some  eminent  persons  in  proposing 


14  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

ways  and  means  to  the  Government  for  raising  money  to 
supply  the  occasions  of  the  war  then  newly  begun."  He 
also  wrote  a  vigorous  and  loyal  pamphlet,  entitled,  The 
Englishman^  Choice  and  True  Interest:  in  the  vigorous 
prosecution  of  the  war  against  France,  and  serving  K. 
William  and,  Q.  Mary,  and  acknoioledging  their  right. 
As  a  reward  for  his  literary  or  his  financial  services,  or  for 
both,  he  was  appointed,  "  without  the  least  application " 
of  his  own,  Accountant  to  the  Commissioners  of  the  Glass 
Duty,  and  held  this  post  till  the  duty  was  abolished  in 
1699. 

From  1694  to  the  end  of  William's  reign  was  the  most 
prosperous  and  honourable  period  in  Defoe's  life.  His  ser- 
vices to  the  Government  did  not  absorb  the  whole  of  his 
restless  energy.  He  still  had  time  for  private  enterprise, 
and  started  a  manufactory  of  bricks  and  pantiles  at  Til- 
bury, where,  Mr.  Lee  says,  judging  from  fragments  recently 
dug  up,  he  made  good  sound  sonorous  bricks,  although  ac- 
cording to  another  authority  such  a  thing  was  impossible 
out  of  any  material  existing  in  the  neighbourhood.  Any- 
how, Defoe  prospered,  and  set  up  a  coach  and  a  pleasure- 
boat.  Nor  must  we  forget  what  is  so  much  to  his  honour, 
that  he  set  himself  to  pay  his  creditors  in  full,  voluntarily 
disregarding  the  composition  which  they  had  accepted. 
In  1705  he  was  able  to  boast  that  he  had  reduced  his 
debts  in  spite  of  many  diflSculties  from  1*7,000^.  to  5,000/., 
but  these  sums  included  liabilities  resulting  from  the  fail- 
ure of  his  pantile  factory. 

Defoe's  first  conspicuous  literary  service  to  King  Wil- 
liam, after  he  obtained  Government  employment,  was  a 
pamphlet  on  the  question  of  a  Standing  Army  raised  after 
the  Peace  of  Ryswick  in  1697.  This  Pen  and  Ink  War, 
as  he  calls  it,  which  followed  close  on  the  heels  of  the 


II.]  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  15 

great  European  struggle,  had  been  raging  for  some  time 
before  Defoe  took  the  field.  Hosts  of  writers  had  ap- 
peared to  endanger  the  permanence  of  the  triumph  of 
William's  arms  and  diplomacy  by  demanding  the  disband- 
ment  of  his  tried  troops,  as  being  a  menace  to  domestic 
liberties.  Their  arguments  had  been  encountered  by  no 
less  zealous  champions  of  the  King's  cause.  The  battle,  in 
fact,  had  been  won  when  Defoe  issued  his  Argument  show- 
ing that  a  Standing  Army,  with  consent  of  Parliament,  is 
not  inconsistent  tvith  a  Free  Government.  He  was  able  to 
boast  in  his  preface  that  "if  books  and  writings  would 
not,  God  be  thanked  the  Parliament  would  confute"  his 
adversaries.  Nevertheless,  though  coming  late  in  the  day, 
Defoe's  pamphlet  was  widely  read,  and  must  have  helped 
to  consolidate  the  victory. 

Thus  late  in  life  did  Defoe  lay  the  first  stone  of  his  lit- 
erary reputation.  He  was  now  in  tho  thirty-eighth  year 
of  his  age,  his  controversial  genius  in  full  vigour,  and  his 
mastery  of  language  complete.  None  of  his  subsequent 
tracts  surpass  this  as  a  piece  of  trenchant  and  persuasive 
reasoning.  It  shows  at  their  very  highest  his  marvellous 
powers  of  combining  constructive  with  destructive  criti- 
cism. He  dashes  into  the  lists  with  good-humoured  con- 
fidence, bearing  the  banner  of  clear  common  sense,  and 
disclaiming  sympathy  with  extreme  persons  of  either  side. 
He  puts  his  case  with  direct  and  plausible  force,  address- 
ing his  readers  vivaciously  as  plain  people  like  himself, 
among  whom  as  reasonable  men  there  cannot  be  two  opin- 
ions. He  cuts  rival  arguments  to  pieces  with  dexterous 
strokes,  representing  them  as  the  confused  reasoning  of 
well-meaning  but  dull  intellects,  and  dances  with  lively 
mockery  on  the  fragments.  If  the  authors  of  such  argu- 
ments knew  their  own  minds,  they  would  be  entirely  on 


16  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

his  side.  He  echoes  the  pet  prejudices  of  his  readers  as 
the  props  and  mainstays  of  his  thesis,  and  boldly  laughs 
away  misgivings  of  which  they  are  likely  to  be  half 
ashamed.  He  makes  no  parade  of  logic;  he  is  only  a 
plain  freeholder  like  the  mass  whom  he  addresses,  though 
he  knows  twenty  times  as  much  as  many  writers  of  more 
pretension.  He  never  appeals  to  passion  or  imagination ; 
what  he  strives  to  enlist  on  his  side  is  homely  self-interest, 
and  the  ordinary  sense  of  what  is  right  and  reasonable. 
There  is  little  regularity  of  method  in  the  development 
of  his  argument ;  that  he  leaves  to  more  anxious  and  elab- 
orate masters  of  style.  For  himself  he  is  content  to  start 
from  a  bold  and  clear  statement  of  his  own  opinion,  and 
proceeds  buoyantly  and  discursively  to  engage  and  scatter 
his  enemies  as  they  turn  up,  without  the  least  fear  of  be- 
ing able  to  fight  his  way  back  to  his  original  base.  He 
wrote  for  a  class  to  whom  a  prolonged  intellectual  opera- 
tion, however  comprehensive  and  complete,  was  distasteful. 
To  persuade  the  mass  of  the  freeholders  was  his  object, 
and  for  such  an  object  there  are  no  political  tracts  in  the 
language  at  all  comparable  to  Defoe's.  He  bears  some  re- 
semblance to  Cobbett,  but  he  had  none  of  Cobbett's  bru- 
tality ;  his  faculties  were  more  adroit,  and  his  range  of 
vision  infinitely  wider.  Cobbett  was  a  demagogue,  Defoe 
a  popular  statesman.  The  one  was  qualified  to  lead  the 
people,  the  other  to  guide  them.  Cobbett  is  contained  in 
Defoe  as  the  less  is  contained  in  the  greater. 

King  William  obtained  a  standing  army  from  ParliiV 
ment,  but  not  so  large  an  army  as  he  wished,  and  it  was 
soon  afterwards  still  further  reduced.  Meantime,  Defoe 
employed  his  pen  in  promoting  objects  which  were  dear 
to  the  King's  heart.  His  Essay  on  Projects — which  "  re- 
late to  Civil  Polity  as  well  as  matters  of  negoce" — was 


II.]        ,  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  17 

calculated,  in  so  far  as  it  advocated  joint-stock  enterprise, 
to  advance  one  of  the  objects  of  the  statesmen  of  the  Rev- 
olution, the  committal  of  the  moneyed  classes  to  the  es- 
tablished Government,  and  against  a  dynasty  which  might 
plausibly  be  mistrusted  of  respect  for  visible  accumulations 
of  private  wealth.  Defoe's  projects  were  of  an  extremely 
varied  kind.  The  classification  was  not  strict.  His  spir- 
ited definition  of  the  word  "  projects  "  included  Noah's 
x\rk  and  the  Tower  of  Babel,  as  well  as  Captain  Phipps's 
scheme  for  raising  the  wreck  of  a  Spanish  ship  laden  with 
silver.  He  is  sometimes  credited  with  remarkable  shrewd- 
ness in  having  anticipated  in  this  Essay  some  of  the  great- 
est public  improvements  of  modern  times — the  protection 
of  seamen,  the  higher  education  of  women,  the  establish- 
ment of  banks  and  benefit  societies,  the  construction  of 
highways.  But  it  is  not  historically  accurate  to  give  him 
the  whole  credit  of  these  conceptions.  Most  of  them  were 
floating  about  at  the  time,  so  much  so  that  he  had  to  de- 
fend himself  against  a  charge  of  plagiarism,  and  few  of 
them  have  been  carried  out  in  accordance  with  the  essen- 
tial features  of  his  plans.  One  remarkable  circumstance 
in  Defoe's  projects,  which  we  may  attribute  either  to  his 
own  natural  bent  or  to  his  compliance  with  the  King's 
humour,  is  the  extent  to  which  he  advocated  Government 
interference.  He  proposed,  for  example,  an  income-tax, 
and  the  appointment  of  a  commission  who  should  travel 
through  the  country  and  ascertain  by  inquiry  that  the  tax 
was  not  evaded.  In  making  this  proposal  he  shows  an  ac- 
quaintance with  private  incomes  in  the  City,  which  raises 
some  suspicion  as  to  the  capacity  in  which  he  was  "asso- 
ciated with  certain  eminent  persons  in  proposing  ways  and 
means  to  the  Government."  In  his  article  on  Banks,  he 
expresses  himself  dissatisfied  that  the  Government  did  noi; 
29  2 


18  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [cbap. 

fix  a  maximum  rate  of  interest  for  the  loans  made  by  char- 
tered banks ;  they  were  otherwise,  he  complained,  of  no 
assistance  to  the  poor  trader,  who  might  as  well  go  to  the 
goldsmiths  as  before.  His  Highways  project  was  a  scheme 
for  making  national  highways  on  a  scale  worthy  of  Baron 
Haussmann.  There  is  more  fervid  imagination  and  dar- 
ing ingenuity  than  business  talent  in  Defoe's  essay  ;  if  his 
trading  speculations  were  conducted  with  equal  rashness, 
it  is  not  difiBcult  to  understand  their  failure.  The  most 
notable  of  them  are  the  schemes  of  a  dictator,  rather  than 
of  the  adviser  of  a  free  Government.  The  essay  is  chiefly 
interesting  as  a  monument  of  Defoe's  marvellous  force  of 
mind,  and  strange  mixture  of  steady  sense  with  inconti- 
nent flightiness.  There  are  ebullient  sallies  in  it  which  we 
generally  find  only  in  the  productions  of  madmen  and  char- 
latans, and  yet  it  abounds  in  suggestions  which  statesmen 
might  profitably  have  set  themselves  with  due  adaptations 
to  carry  into  effect.  The  Bssay  on  Projects  might  alone 
be  adduced  in  proof  of  Defoe's  title  to  genius. 

One  of  the  first  projects  to  which  the  Government  of 
the  Revolution  addressed  itself  was  the  reformation  of 
manners — a  purpose  at  once  commendable  in  itself  and 
politically  useful  as  distinguishing  the  new  Government 
from  the  old.  Even  while  the  King  was  absent  in  Ire- 
land at  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  the  Queen  issued  a  let- 
ter calling  upon  all  justices  of  the  peace  and  other  servants 
of  the  Crown  to  exert  themselves  in  suppressing  the  lux- 
uriant growth  of  vice,  which  had  been  fostered  by  the  ex- 
ample of  the  Court  of  Charles.  On  the  conclusion  of  the 
war  in  1697,  William  issued  a  most  elaborate  proclama- 
tion to  the  same  effect,  and  an  address  was  voted  by  Par- 
liament, asking  his  Majesty  to  see  that  wickedness  was  dis- 
couraged in  high  places.     The  lively  pamphlet  in  which 


11.]         '  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  !• 

Defoe  lent  his  assistance  to  the  good  work  entitled  The 
Poor  Man's  Plea,  was  written  in  the  spirit  of  the  parlia- 
mentary address.  It  was  of  no  use  to  pass  laws  and  make 
declarations  and  proclamations  for  the  reform  of  the  com- 
mon plebeii,  the  poor  man  pleaded,  so  long  as  the  mentors 
of  the  laws  were  themselves  corrupt.  His  argument  was 
spiced  with  amusing  anecdotes  to  show  the  prevalence  of 
swearing  and  drunkenness  among  members  of  the  judicial 
bench.  Defoe  appeared  several  times  afterwards  in  the 
character  of  a  reformer  of  manners,  sometimes  in  verse, 
sometimes  in  prose.  When  the  retort  was  made  that  his 
own  manners  were  not  perfect,  he  denied  that  this  invali- 
dated the  worth  of  his  appeal,  but  at  the  same  time  chal- 
lenged his  accusers  to  prove  him  gniilty  of  any  of  the  vices 
that  he  had  satirised. 

It  is  impossible  now  to  ascertain  what  induced  Defoe 
to  break  with  the  Dissenters,  among  whom  he  had  been 
brought  up,  but  break  with  them  he  did  in  his  pamphlet 
against  the  practice  of  Occasional  Gomformity.  This  prac 
tice  of  occasionally  taking  communion  with  the  Estab 
lished  Church,  as  a  qualification  for  public  oflBce,  had 
grown  up  after  the  Revolution,  and  had  attracted  very 
little  notice  till  a  Dissenting  lord  mayor,  after  attending 
church  one  Sunday  forenoon,  went  in  the  afternoon  with 
all  the  insignia  of  his  office  to  a  Conventicle.  Defoe's  ob- 
jection to  this  is  indicated  in  his  quotation,  "  If  the  Lord 
be  God,  follow  Him,  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him."  A 
man,  he  contended,  who  could  reconcile  it  with  his  con- 
science to  attend  the  worship  of  the  Church,  had  no  busi- 
ness to  be  a  Dissenter.  Occasional  conformity  was  "  either 
a  sinful  act  in  itself,  or  else  his  dissenting  before  was  sin- 
ful." The  Dissentei-s  naturally  did  not  like  this  intolerant 
logical  dilemma,  and  resented  its  being  forced  upon  them 


20  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

by  one  of  their  own  number  against  a  practical  compro- 
mise to  whicli  tbe  good  sense  of  the  majority  of  them  as- 
sented. No  reply  was  made  to  the  pamphlet  when  first 
issued  in  1698 ;  and  two  or  three  years  afterwards  Defoe, 
exulting  in  the  unanswerable  logic  of  his  position,  reprint- 
ed it  with  a  prefatory  challenge  to  Mr.  Howe,  an  eminent 
Dissenting  minister.  During  the  next  reign,  however,  when 
a  bill  was  introduced  to  prohibit  the  practice  of  occasional 
conformity,  Defoe  strenuously  wrote  against  it  as  a  breach 
of  the  Toleration  Act  and  a  measure  of  persecution.  In 
strict  logic  it  is  possible  to  make  out  a  case  for  his  con- 
sistency, but  the  reasoning  must  be  fine,  and  he  cannot  be 
acquitted  of  having  in  the  first  instance  practically  justi- 
fied a  persecution  which  he  afterwards  condemned.  In 
neither  case  does  he  point  at  the  repeal  of  the  Test  Act  as 
his  object,  and  it  is  impossible  to  explain  his  attitude  in 
both  cases  on  the  ground  of  principle.  However  much 
he  objected  to  see  the  sacrament  taken  as  a  matter  of 
form,  it  was  hardly  his  province,  in  the  circumstances  in 
which  Dissenters  then  stood,  to  lead  an  outcry  against 
the  practice;  and  if  he  considered  it  scandalous  and  sin- 
ful, he  could  not  with  much  consistency  protest  against 
the  prohibition  of  it  as  an  act  of  persecution.  Of  this  no 
person  was  better  aware  than  Defoe  himself,  and  it  is  a 
curious  circumstance  that,  in  his  first  pamphlet  on  the  bill 
for  putting  down  occasional  conformity,  he  ridiculed  the 
idea  of  its  being  persecution  to  suppress  politic  or  state 
Dissenters,  and  maintained  that  the  bill  did  not  concern 
true  Dissenters  at  all.  To  this,  however,  we  must  refer 
again  in  connexion  with  his  celebrated  tract,  The  Short- 
est Way  ivith  Dissenters. 

The   troubles  into   which   the   European    system   was 
plunged  by  the  death  of  the  childless  King  of  Spain,  and 


n.]  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  2! 

that  most  di'amatic  of  historical  surprises,  the  bequest  of 
his  throne  by  a  death-bed  will  to  the  Duke  of  Aiijou,  tlic 
second  grandson  of  Louis  XIV.,  furnished  Defoe  with  a 
great  opportunity  for  his  controversial  genius.  In  Charles 
II.'s  will,  if  the  legacy  was  accepted,  William  saw  the  ruin 
of  a  life-long  policy.  Louis,  though  he  was  doubly  pledged 
against  acknowledging  the  will,  having  renounced  all  pre- 
tensions to  the  throne  of  Spain  for  himself  and  his  heirs 
in  the  Treaty  of  the  Pyrenees,  and  consented  in  two  suc- 
cessive treaties  of  partition  to  a  different  plan  of  succes- 
sion, did  not  long  hesitate ;  the  news  that  he  had  saluted 
his  gTandson  as  King  of  Spain  followed  close  upon  the 
news  of  Charles's  death.  The  balance  of  the  great  Catho- 
lic Powers  which  William  had  established  by  years  of  anx- 
ious diplomacy  and  costly  war,  was  toppled  over  by  a 
stroke  of  the  pen.  With  Spain  and  Italy  virtually  added 
to  his  dominions,  the  French  King  would  now  be  supreme 
upon  the  Continent.  Louis  soon  showed  that  this  was  his 
view  of  what  had  happened,  by  saying  that  the  Pyrenees 
had  ceased  to  exist.  He  gave  a  practical  illustration  of 
the  same  view  by  seizing,  with  the  authority  of  his  grand- 
son, the  frontier  towns  of  the  Spanish  Netherlands,  which 
were  garrisoned  under  a  special  treaty  by  Dutch  troops. 
Though  deeply  enraged  at  the  bad  faith  of  the  most 
Christian  King,  William  was  not  dismayed.  The  stone 
which  he  had  rolled  up  the  hill  with  such  effort  had  sud- 
denly rolled  down  again,  but  he  was  eager  to  renew  his 
labours.  Before,  however,  he  could  act,  he  found  himself, 
to  his  utter  astonishment  and  mortification,  paralysed  by 
the  attitude  of  the  English  Parliament,  His  alarm  at  the 
accession  of  a  Bourbon  to  the  Spanish  throne  was  not 
shared  by  the  ruling  classes  in  England.  They  declared 
that  they  liked  the  Spanish  King's  will  better  than  Wil- 


2is  DANIEL  DEFOE.  fcHAP. 

Ham's  partition.  France,  they  argued,  would  gain  much 
less  by  a  dynastic  alliance  with  Spain,  which  would  ex- 
ist no  longer  than  their  common  interests  dictated,  than 
by  the  complete  acquisition  of  the  Spanish  provinces  in 
Italy. 

WilliaiB  lost  no  time  in  summoning  a  new  Parliament. 
An  overwhelming  majority  opposed  the  idea  of  vindicat- 
ing the  Partition  Treaty  by  arms.  They  pressed  him  to 
send  a  message  of  recognition  to  Philip  V.  Even  the  oc- 
cupation of  the  Flemish  fortresses  did  not  change  their 
temper.  That,  they  said,  was  the  affair  of  the  Dutch  ;  it 
did  not  concern  England.  In  vain  William  tried  to  con- 
vince them  that  the  interests  of  the  two  Protestant  States 
were  identical.  In  the  numerous  pamphlets  that  were 
hatched  by  the  ferment,  it  was  broadly  insinuated  that  the 
English  people  might  pay  too  much  for  the  privilege  of 
having  a  Dutch  King,  who  had  done  nothing  for  them 
that  they  could  not  have  done  for  themselves,  and  who 
was  perpetually  sacrificing  the  interests  of  his  adopted 
country  to  the  necessities  of  his  beloved  Holland.  What 
had  England  gained  by  the  Peace  of  Ryswick?  Was 
England  to  be  dragged  into  another  exhausting  war,  mere- 
ly to  secure  a  strong  frontier  for  the  Dutch  ?  The  appeal 
found  ready  listeners  among  a  people  in  whose  minds  the 
recollections  of  the  last  war  were  still  fresh,  and  who  still 
felt  the  burdens  it  had  left  behind.  AVilliam  did  not 
venture  to  take  any  steps  to  form  an  alliance  against 
France,  till  a  new  incident  emerged  to  shake  the  country 
from  its  mood  of  surly  calculation.  When  James  II.  died 
and  Louis  recognised  the  Pretender  as  King  of  England, 
all  thoughts  of  isolation  from  a  Continental  confederacy 
were  thrown  to  the  winds,  William  dissolved  his  Long 
Parliament,  and  found  the  new  House  as  warlike  as  the 


n.]  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  23 

former  had  been  peaceful.  "  Of  all  the  nations  in  the 
world,"  cried  Defoe,  in  commenting  on  this  sudden  chano-e 
of  mood,  "  there  is  none  that  I  know  of  so  entirely  gov- 
erned by  their  humour  as  the  English." 

For  ten  months  Defoe  had  been  vehemently  but  vainly 
striving  to  accomplish  by  argument  what  had  been  wrought 
in  an  instant  by  the  French  King's  insufferable  insult.  It 
is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  periods  of  his  political  activity. 
Comparatively  undistinguished  before,  he  now,  at  the  age 
of  forty,  stepped  into  the  foremost  rank  of  publicists.  He 
lost  not  a  moment  in  throwing  himself  into  the  fray  as  the 
champion  of  the  king's  policy.  Charles  of  Spain  died  on 
the  22nd  of  October,  1701 ;  by  the  middle  of  November, 
a  few  days  after  the  news  had  reached  England,  and  before 
the  French  King's  resolve  to  acknowledge  the  legacy  was 
known,  Defoe  was  ready  with  a  pamphlet  to  the  clear  and 
stirring  title  of — The  Two  Great  questions  considered.  I. 
What  the  French  King  toill  do  tvith  respect  to  the  Spanish 
Monarchij.  II.  What  measures  the  English  ought  to  take. 
K  the  French  Kmg  were  wise,  he  argued,  he  would  reject 
the  dangerous  gift  for  his  grandson.  But  if  he  accepted 
it,  England  had  no  choice  but  to  combine  with  her  late 
allies  the  Emperor  and  the  States,  and  compel  the  Duke  of 
Anjou  to  withdraw  his  claims.  This  pamphlet  being  vir- 
ulently attacked,  and  its  author  accused  of  bidding  for  a 
place  at  Court,  Defoe  made  a  spirited  rejoinder,  and  seized 
the  occasion  to  place  his  arguments  in  still  clearer  light. 
Between  them  the  two  pamphlets  are  a  masterly  exposition, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  English  interests,  of  the  danger 
of  permitting  the  Will  to  be  fulfilled.  He  tears  the  argu- 
ments of  his  opponents  to  pieces  with  supreme  scorn. 
What  matters  it  to  us  who  is  King  of  Spain  ?  asks  one 
adversary.     As  well  ask,  retorts  Defoe,  what  it  matters  to 


24  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

us  who  is  King  of  Ireland.  All  this  talk  about  the  Bal- 
ance of  Power,  says  another,  is  only  "  a  shoeing-horn  to 
draw  on  a  standing  army."  We  do  not  want  an  army ; 
only  let  us  make  our  fleet  strong  enough  and  we  may  defy 
the  world;  our  militia  is  perfectly  able  to  defend  us 
against  invasion.  If  our  militia  is  so  strong,  is  Defoe's 
reply,  why  should  a  standing-army  make  us  fear  for  our 
domestic  liberties  ?  But  if  you  object  to  a  standing-army 
in  England,  avert  the  danger  by  subsidising  allies  and  rais- 
ing and  paying  troops  in  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries. 
Even  if  we  are  capable  of  beating  off  invasion,  it  is  always 
wise  policy  to  keep  the  war  out  of  our  own  country,  and 
not  trust  to  such  miracles  as  the  dispersion  of  the  Armada. 
In  war,  Defoe  says,  repeating  a  favourite  axiom  of  his,  "  it 
is  not  the  longest  sword  but  the  longest  purse  that  con- 
quers," and  if  the  French  get  the  Spanish  crown,  they  get 
the  richest  trade  in  the  world  into  their  hands.  The 
French  would  prove  better  husbands  of  the  wealth  of  Mex- 
ico and  Peru  than  the  Spaniards.  They  would  build  fleets 
with  it,  which  would  place  our  American  plantations  at 
their  mercy.  Our  own  trade  with  Spain,  one  of  the  most 
profitable  fields  of  our  enterprise,  would  at  once  be  ruined. 
Our  Mediterranean  trade  would  be  burdened  with  the  im- 
post of  a  toll  at  Gibraltar.  In  short  Defoe  contended,  if 
the  French  acquired  the  upper  hand  in  Spain,  nothing  but 
a  miracle  could  save  England  from  becoming  practically  a 
French  province. 

Defoe's  appeal  to  the  sense  of  self-interest  fell,  however, 
upon  deaf  ears.  No  eloquence  or  ingenuity  of  argument 
could  have  availed  to  stem  the  strong  current  of  growling 
prepossession.  He  was  equally  unsuccessful  in  his  attempt 
to  touch  deeper  feelings  by  exhibiting  in  a  pamphlet, 
which  is  perhaps  the  ablest  of  the  series.  The  danger  of  the 


II.  1  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  25 

Protestant  Religion,  from  the  present  prospect  of  a  Relig- 
ious War  in  Europe.  "Surely  you  cannot  object  to  a 
standing  army  for  the  defence  of  your  religion?"  he  ar- 
gued ;  "  for  if  you  do,  then  you  stand  convicted  of  valuing 
your  liberties  more  than  your  religion,  which  ought  to  be 
your  first  and  highest  concern."  Such  scraps  of  rhetorical 
logic  were  but  as  straws  in  the  storm  of  anti-warlike  pas- 
sion that  was  then  raging.  Nor  did  Defoe  succeed  in 
turning  the  elections  by  addressing  "  to  the  good  people 
of  England  "  his  Six  Distinguishing  Characters  of  a  Par- 
liament Man,  or  by  protesting  as  a  freeholder  against  the 
levity  of  makmg  the  strife  between  the  new  and  the  old 
East  India  Companies  a  testing  question,  when  the  very 
existence  of  the  kingdom  was  at  stake.  His  pamphlets 
were  widely  distributed,  but  he  might  as  soon  have  tried 
to  check  a  tempest  by  throwing  handfuls  of  leaves  into  it. 
One  great  success,  however,  he  had,  and  that,  strangely 
enough,  in  a  direction  in  which  it  was  least  to  be  antici- 
pated. No  better  proof  could  be  given  that  the  good- 
humoured  magnanimity  and  sense  of  fair-play  on  which 
English  people  pride  themselves  is  more  than  an  empty 
boast  than  the  reception  accorded  to  Defoe's  True-Born 
Englishman.  King  William's  unpopularity  was  at  its 
height.  A  party  writer  of  the  time  had  sought  to  inflame 
the  general  dislike  to  his  Dutch  favourites  by  "  a  vile  pam- 
phlet in  abhorred  verse,"  entitled  The  Foreigners,  in  which 
they  are  loaded  with  scurrilous  insinuations.  It  required 
no  ordinary  courage  in  the  state  of  the  national  temper  at 
that  moment  to  venture  upon  the  line  of  retort  that  Defoe 
adopted.  What  were  the  English,  he  demanded,  that  they 
should  make  a  mock  of  foreigners?  They  were  the  most 
mongrel  race  that  ever  lived  upon  the  face  of  the  earth ; 
there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  true-bom  Englishman ;  they 
C  2* 


26  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

were  all  tlie  offspring  of  foreigners ;  what  was  more,  of  the 
scum  of  foreigners. 

"  For  Englishmen  to  boast  of  generation 

Cancels  their  knowledge,  and  lampoons  the  nation. 

A  true-born  Englishman  's  a  contradiction, 

In  speech  an  irony,  in  fact  a  fiction. 
***** 

And  here  begins  the  ancient  pedigree 

That  so  exalts  our  poor  nobility. 

'Tis  that  from  some  French  trooper  they  derive, 

Who  with  the  Norman  bastard  did  arrive ; 

The  trophies  of  the  families  appear, 

Some  show  the  sword,  the  bow,  and  some  the  spear 

Which  theh  great  ancestor,  forsooth,  did  weai; 

These  in  the  herald's  register  remain. 

Their  noble  mean  extraction  to  explain, 

Yet  who  the  hero  was  no  man  can  tell. 

Whether  a  drummer  or  colonel ; 

The  silent  record  blushes  to  reveal 

Their  undescended  dark  original. 
***** 
"  These  are  the  heroes  that  despise  the  Dutch 

And  rail  at  new-come  foreigners  so  much ; 

Forgetting  that  themselves  are  aU  derived 

From  the  most  scoundrel  race  that  ever  lived ; 

A  horrid  crowd  of  rambUng  thieves  and  drones, 

Who  ransacked  kingdoms  and  dispeopled  towns ; 

The  Pict  and  painted  Briton,  treacherous  Scot, 

By  hunger,  theft,  and  rapine  hither  brought ; 

Norwegian  pirates,  buccaneering  Danes, 

Whose  red-hahed  offspring  everywhere  remains ; 

Who  joined  with  Norman  French  compound  the  breed 

From  whence  your  true-bom  Englishmen  proceed. 

"  And  lest,  by  length  of  time,  it  be  pretended. 
The  climate  may  this  modern  breed  have  mended, 


II.]  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  2Y 

Wise  Providence,  to  keep  us  where  we  are, 

Mxes  us  daily  with  exceeding  care ; 

We  have  been  Europe's  sink,  the  jakes  where  she 

Voids  all  her  ofi'al  outcast  j)rogeny  ; 

From  our  fifth  Henry's  time  the  strolling  bands 

Of  banished  fugitives  from  neighbouring  lands 

Have  here  a  certain  sanctuary  found  : 

The  eternal  refuge  of  the  vagabond, 

Wherein  but  half  a  common  age  of  time, 

Borrowing  new  blood  and  manners  from  the  clime, 

Proudly  they  learn  all  mankind  to  contemn, 

And  all  their  race  are  true-bom  Englishmen." 

As  may  be  judged  from  this  specimen,  there  is  little  deli- 
cacy in  Defoe's  satire.  The  lines  run  on  from  beginning 
to  end  in  the  same  strain  of  bold,  broad,  hearty  banter,  as 
if  the  whole  piece  had  been  written  off  at  a  heat.  The 
mob  did  not  lynch  the  audacious  humourist.  In  the  very 
height  of  their  fury  against  foreigners,  they  stopped  short 
to  laugh  at  themselves.  They  were  tickled  by  the  hard 
blows  as  we  may  suppose  a  rhinoceros  to  be  tickled  by  the 
strokes  of  an  oaken  cudgel.  Defoe  suddenly  woke  to  find 
himself  the  hero  of  the  hour,  at  least  with  the  London 
populace.  The  pamphlet  was  pirated,  and  eighty  thousand 
copies,  according  to  his  own  calculation,  were  sold  in  the 
streets.  Henceforth  he  described  himself  in  his  title-pages 
as  the  author  of  the  True-Born  Englishman,  and  fi'equent- 
ly  did  himself  the  honour  of  quoting  from  the  work  as 
from  a  well-established  classic.  It  was  also,  he  has  told 
us,  the  means  of  his  becoming  personally  known  to  the 
King,  whom  he  had  hitherto  served  from  a  distance. 

Defoe  was  not  the  man  to  be  abashed  by  his  own  pop- 
ularity. He  gloried  in  it,  and  added  to  his  reputation  by 
taking  a  prominent  part  in  the  proceedings  connected  with 


28  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [cbjA 

the  famous  Kentish  Petition,  which  marked  the  turn  of 
the  tide  in  favour  of  the  King's  foreign  policy.  Defoe 
was  said  to  be  the  author  of  "  Legion's  Memorial "  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  sternly  warning  the  representatives  of 
the  freeholders  that  they  had  exceeded  their  powers  in  im- 
prisoning the  men  who  had  prayed  them  to  "turn  their 
loyal  addresses  into  Bills  of  Supply."  When  the  Kentish 
Petitioners  were  liberated  from  the  custody  of  the  Ser- 
geant-at-Arms,  and  feasted  by  the  citizens  at  Mercers'  Hall, 
Defoe  was  seated  next  to  them  as  an  honoured  guest. 

Unfortunately  for  Defoe,  William  did  not  live  long 
after  he  had  been  honoured  with  his  Majesty's  confidence. 
He  declared  afterwards  that  he  had  often  been  privately 
consulted  by  the  King.  The  pamphlets  which  he  wrote 
during  the  close  of  the  reign  are  all  such  as  might  have 
been  directly  inspired.  That  on  the  Succession  is  chiefly 
memorable  as  containing  a  suggestion  that  the  heirs  of  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth  should  be  heard  as  to  King  Charles's 
alleged  marriage  with  Lucy  Walters.  It  is  possible  that 
this  idea  may  have  been  sanctioned  by  the  King,  who  had 
had  painful  experience  of  the  disadvr.ntages  attending  a 
ruler  of  foreign  extraction,  and  besides  had  reason  to  doubt 
the  attachment  of  the  Princess  Sophia  to  the  Protestant 
faith.  When  the  passionate  aversion  to  war  in  the  popu- 
lar mmd  was  suddenly  changed  by  the  recognition  of  the 
Pretender  into  an  equally  passionate  thirst  for  it,  and  the 
King  seized  the  opportunity  to  dissolve  Parliament  and 
get  a  new  House  in  accord  with  the  altered  temper  of  the 
people,  Defoe  justified  the  appeal  to  the  freeholders  by  an 
examination  and  assertion  of  "  the  Original  Power  of  the 
Collective  Body  of  the  People  of  England."  His  last  ser- 
vice to  the  King  was  a  pamphlet  bearing  the  paradoxical 
title,  Reasons  against  a  War  with  France.     As  Defoe  had 


n.]  KING  WILLIAM'S  ADJUTANT.  29 

for  nearly  a  year  been  zealously  working  the  piiblic  mind 
to  a  warlike  pitch,  this  title  is  at  first  surprising,  but  the 
surprise  disappears  when  we  find  that  the  pamphlet  is  an 
ingenious  plea  for  beginning  with  a  declaration  of  war 
against  Spain,  showing  that  not  only  was  there  just  cause 
for  such  a  war,  but  that  it  would  bo  extremely  profitable, 
inasmuch  as  it  would  afford  occasion  for  plundering  the 
Spaniards  in  the  West  Indies,  and  thereby  making  up  for 
whatever  losses  our  trade  might  suffer  from  the  French 
privateers.  And  it  was  more  than  a  mere  plundering  de- 
scent that  Defoe  had  in  view ;  his  object  was  that  England 
should  take  actual  possession  of  the  Spanish  Indies,  and 
so  rob  Spain  of  its  chief  source  of  wealth.  There  was 
a  most  powerful  buccaneering  spirit  concealed  under  the 
peaceful  title  of  this  pamphlet.  The  trick  of  arresting  at- 
tention by  an  unexpected  thesis,  such  as  this  promise  of 
reasons  for  peace  when  everybody  was  dreaming  of  war,  is 
an  art  in  which  Defoe  has  never  been  surpassed.  As  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  see,  he  practised  it  more  than  once 
too  often  for  his  comfort. 


CHAPTER  in. 

A    MARTYR   TO    DISSENT? 

From  the  death  of  the  King  in  March,  1702,  we  must 
date  a  change  in  Defoe's  relations  with  the  ruling  powers. 
Under  William,  his  position  as  a  political  writer  had  been 
distinct  and  honourable.  He  supported  William's  policy 
warmly  and  straightforwardly,  whether  he  divined  it  by  his 
own  judgment,  or  learned  it  by  direct  or  indirect  instruc- 
tions or  hints.  When  charged  with  writing  for  a  place, 
he  indignantly  denied  that  he  held  either  place  or  pension 
at  Court,  but  at  another  time  he  admitted  that  he  had  been 
employed  by  the  King  and  rewarded  by  him  beyond  his 
deserts.  Any  reward  that  he  received  for  his  literary  ser- 
vices was  well  earned,  and  there  was  nothing  dishonourable 
in  accepting  it.  For  concealing  the  connexion  while  the 
King  was  alive,  he  might  plead  the  custom  of  the  time. 
But  in  the  confusion  of  parties  and  the  uncertainty  of  gov- 
ernment that  followed  William's  death,  Defoe  slid  into 
practices  which  cannot  be  justified  by  any  standard  of 
morality. 

It  was  by  accident  that  Defoe  drifted  into  this  equivo- 
cal position.  His  first  writings  under  the  new  reign  were 
in  staunch  consistency  with  what  he  had  written  before. 
He  did  not  try  to  flatter  the  Queen  as  many  others  did  by 


CHAP,  ni.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  81 

slighting  her  predecessors ;  on  the  contrary,  he  wrote  a 
poem  called  The  Mock  Mourners,  in  which  he  extolled 
"  the  glorious  memory  " — a  phrase  which  he  did  much  to 
bring  into  use — and  charged  those  who  spoke  disrespect- 
fully of  William  with  the  vilest  insolence  and  ingratitude. 
He  sang  the  praises  of  the  Queen  also,  but  as  he  based  his 
joy  at  her  accession  on  an  assurance  that  she  would  follow 
in  William's  footsteps,  the  compliment  might  be  construed 
as  an  exhortation.  Shortly  afterwards,  in  another  poem, 
The  Sj^anish  Descent,  he  took  his  revenge  upon  the  fleet 
for  not  carrying  out  his  West  Indian  scheme  by  ridiculing 
unmercifully  their  first  fruitless  cruise  on  the  Spanish 
coast,  taking  care  at  the  same  time  to  exult  in  the  cap- 
ture of  the  galleons  at  Vigo.  In  yet  another  poem — 
the  success  of  the  True  Born  Englishman  seems  to  have 
misguided  him  into  the  belief  that  he  had  a  genius  for 
verse  —  he  reverted  to  the  Reformation  of  Manners,  and 
angered  the  Dissenters  by  belabouring  certain  magistrates 
of  their  denomination.  A  pamphlet  entitled  A  New  Test 
of  the  Church  of  England's  Loyalty — in  which  he  twitted 
the  High-Church  party  with  being  neither  more  nor  less 
loyal  than  the  Dissenters,  inasmuch  as  they  consented  to 
the  deposition  of  James  and  acquiesced  in  the  accession  of 
Anne — was  better  received  by  his  co-religionists. 

But  when  the  Bill  to  prevent  occasional  conformity 
was  introduced  by  some  hot-headed  partisans  of  the  High 
Church,  towards  the  close  of  1702,  with  the  Queen's  warm 
approval,  Defoe  took  a  course  which  made  the  Dissenters 
threaten  to  cast  him  altogether  out  of  the  synagogue. 
W^e  have  already  seen  how  Defoe  had  taken  the  lead  in 
attacking  the  practice  of  occasional  conformity.  While 
his  co-religionists  were  imprecating  him  as  the  man  who 
had  brought  this  persecution  upon  them,  Defoe  added  to 


82  DAXIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

their  ill-feeling  by  issuing  a  jaunty  pamptlet  in  ■whicli  ha 
proved  with  provoking  unauswerableness  that  all  honest 
Dissenters  were  noways  concerned  in  the  Bill.  Nobody, 
he  said,  with  his  usual  bright  audacity,  but  himself  "  who 
was  altogether  born  in  sin,"  saw  the  true  scope  of  the 
measure,  "All  those  people  who  designed  the  Act  as 
a  blow  to  the  Dissenting  interests  in  England  are  mis- 
taken. All  those  who  take  it  as  a  prelude  or  introduction 
to  the  further  suppressing  of  the  Dissenters,  and  a  step 
to  repealing  the  Toleration,  or  intend  it  as  such,  are  mis- 
taken  All  those  phlegmatic  Dissenters  who  fancy 

themselves  undone,  and  that  persecution  and  desolation 
is  at  the  door  again,  are  mistaken.  All  those  Dissenters 
who  are  really  at  all  disturbed  at  it,  either  as  an  advantage 
gained  by  their  enemies  or  as  a  real  disaster  upon  them- 
selves, are  mistaken.  All  those  Dissenters  who  deprecate 
it  as  a  judgment,  or  would  vote  against  it  as  such  if  it 
were  in  their  power,  are  mistaken."  In  short,  though  he 
did  not  suppose  that  the  movers  of  the  Bill  "  did  it  in 
mere  kindness  to  the  Dissenters,  in  order  to  refine  and 
purge  them  from  the  scandals  which  some  people  had 
brought  upon  them,"  nevertheless  it  was  calculated  to 
effect  this  object.  The  Dissenter  being  a  man  that  was 
"  something  desirous  of  going  to  Heaven,"  ventured  the 
displeasure  of  the  civil  magistrate  at  the  command  of  his 
conscience,  which  warned  him  that  there  were  things  in 
the  Established  form  of  worship  not  agreeable  to  the  Will 
of  God  as  revealed  in  Scripture.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  Act  to  the  prejudice  of  this  Dissenter  ;  it  affects  only 
the  Politic  Dissenter,  or  State  Dissenter,  who  if  he  can 
attend  the  Established  worship  without  offending  his  con- 
science, has  no  cause  to  be  a  Dissenter.  An  act  against 
occasional  conformity  would  rid  the  Dissenting  body  of 


m.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  S8 

these  lukewarm  members,  and  the  riddance  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  all  parties. 

It  may  have  been  that  this  cheerful  argument,  the  legit- 
imate development  of  Defoe's  former  writings  on  the  sub- 
ject, was  intended  to  comfort  his  co-religionists  at  a  mo- 
ment when  the  passing  of  the  Act  seemed  certain.  They 
did  not  view  it  in  that  light ;  they  resented  it  bitterly,  as 
an  insult  in  the  hour  of  their  misfortune  from  the  man 
who  had  shown  their  enemies  where  to  strike.  When, 
however,  the  Bill,  after  passing  the  Commons,  was  op- 
posed and  modified  by  the  Lords,  Defoe  suddenly  ap- 
peared on  a  new  tack,  publishing  the  most  famous  of  his 
political  pamphlets,  The  Shortest  Way  with  the  Dissent' 
ers,  which  has,  by  a  strange  freak  of  circumstances,  gained 
him  the  honour  of  being  enshrined  as  one  of  the  martyrs 
of  Dissent.  In  the  "  brief  explanation  "  of  the  pamphlet 
which  he  gave  afterwards,  he  declared  that  it  had  no  bear- 
ing whatever  upon  the  Occasional  Conformity  Bill,  point- 
ing to  his  former  writings  on  the  subject,  in  which  he  had 
denounced  the  practice,  and  welcomed  the  Bill  as  a  use- 
ful instrument  for  purging  the  Dissenting  bodies  of  half- 
and-half  professors.  It  was  intended,  he  said,  as  a  banter 
upon  the  High-flying  Tory  Churchmen,  putting  into  plain 
English  the  drift  of  their  furious  invectives  against  the 
Dissenters,  and  so,  "  by  an  irony  not  unusual,"  answering 
them  out  of  their  own  mouths. 

The  Shortest  Way  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  a  piece  of 
exquisite  irony,  and  on  the  other  hand  Mr.  Saintsbury  '  has 
raised  the  question  whether  the  representation  of  an  ex- 
treme case,  in  which  the  veil  is  never  lifted  from  the  writ- 
er's own  opinions,  can  properly  be  called  irony  at   all. 

'  In  an  admirable  article  on  Defoe  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britain 
nka. 


34  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

This  last  is,  perhaps,  a  question  belonging  to  the  strict 
definition  of  the  figures  of  speech ;  but,  however  that 
might  be  settled,  it  is  a  mistake  to  describe  Defoe's  art  in 
this  pamphlet  as  delicate.  There  are  no  subtle  strokes  of 
wit  in  it  such  as  we  find  in  some  of  Swift's  ironical  pieces. 
Incomparably  more  effective  as  an  engine  of  controversy, 
it  is  not  entitled  to  the  same  rank  as  a  literary  exercisco 
Its  whole  merit  and  its  rousing  political  force  lay  in  the 
dramatic  genius  with  which  Defoe  personated  the  temper 
of  a  thorough-going  High-flier,  putting  into  plain  and  spir- 
ited English  such  sentiments  as  a  violent  partisan  would 
not  dare  to  utter  except  in  the  unguarded  heat  of  familiar 
discourse,  or  the  half  -  humorous  ferocity  of  intoxication. 
Have  done,  he  said,  addressing  the  Dissenters,  with  this 
cackle  about  Peace  and  Union,  and  the  Christian  duties  of 
moderation,  which  you  raise  now  that  you  find  "  your  day 
is  over,  your  power  gone,  and  the  throne  of  this  nation 
possessed  by  a  Royal,  English,  true,  and  ever  -  constant 
member  of  and  friend  to  the  Church  of  England.  .  .  .  We 
have  heard  none  of  this  lesson  for  fourteen  years  past. 
We  have  been  huffed  and  bullied  with  your  Act  of  Toler- 
ation; you  have  told  us  that  you  are  the  Church  estab- 
lished by  law  as  well  as  others ;  have  set  up  your  canting 
synagogues  at  our  Church  doors,  and  the  Church  and  mem- 
bers have  been  loaded  with  reproaches,  with  oaths,  associa- 
tions, abjurations,  and  what  not.  Where  has  been  the 
mercy,  the  forbearance,  the  charity,  you  have  shown  to 
tender  consciences  of  the  Church  of  England,  that  could 
not  take  oaths  as  fast  as  you  made  them ;  that  having 
sworn  allegiance  to  their  lawful  and  rightful  King,  could 
not  dispense  with  that  oath,  their  King  being  still  alive, 
and  swear  to  your  new  hodge-podge  of  a  Dutch  constitu- 
tion ?  .  .  .  Now  that  the  tables  are  turned  upon  you,  you 


m.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  85 

must  not  be  persecuted ;  'tis  not  a  Christian  spirit."  You 
talk  of  persecution;  what  persecution  have  you  to  com- 
plain of  ?  "  The  first  execution  of  the  laws  against  Dis- 
senters in  England  was  in  the  days  of  King  James  I.  And 
what  did  it  amount  to  ?  Truly  the  worst  they  suffered 
was  at  their  own  request  to  let  them  go  to  New  England 
and  erect  a  new  colony,  and  give  them  great  privileges, 
grants,  and  suitable  powers,  keep  them  under  protection, 
and  defend  them  against  all  invaders,  and  receive  no  taxes 
or  revenue  from  them.  This  was  the  cruelty  of  the 
Church  of  England — fatal  lenity !  'Twas  the  ruin  of  that 
excellent  prince,  King  Charles  I.  Had  King  James  sent 
all  the  Puritans  in  England  away  to  the  West  Indies,  wo 
had  been  a  national,  unmixed  Church ;  the  Church  of 
England  had  been  kept  undivided  and  entire.  To  requite 
the  lenity  of  the  father,  they  take  up  arms  against  the 
son  ;  conquer,  pursue,  take,  imprison,  and  at  last  put  to 
death  the  Anointed  of  God,  and  destroy  the  very  being 
and  nature  of  government,  setting  up  a  sordid  impostor, 
who  had  neither  title  to  govern,  nor  understanding  to  man* 
age,  but  supplied  that  want  with  powei',  bloody  and  des- 
perate councils,  and  craft,  without  conscience."  How  len- 
iently had  King  Charles  treated  these  barbarous  regicides, 
coming  in  all  mercy  and  love,  cherishing  them,  preferring 
them,  giving  them  employment  in  his  service.  As  for 
King  James,  "as  if  mercy  was  the  inherent  quality  of  the 
family,  he  began  his  reign  with  unusual  favour  to  them,  nor 
could  their  joining  with  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  against 
him  move  him  to  do  himself  justice  upon  them,  but  that 
mistaken  prince  thought  to  win  them  by  gentleness  and 
love,  proclaimed  a  universal  liberty  to  them,  and  rather  dis- 
countenanced the  Church  of  England  than  them.  How 
they  requited  him  all  the  world  knows."     Under  King 


86  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

William,  "  a  king  of  their  own,"  they  "  crope  into  all 
places  of  trust  and  profit,"  engrossed  the  ministry,  and  in- 
sulted the  Church.  But  they  must  not  expect  this  kind 
of  thing  to  continue.  "  No,  gentlemen,  the  time  of  mercy 
is  past ;  your  day  of  grace  is  over ;  you  should  have  prac- 
tised peace,  and  moderation,  and  charity,  if  you  expected 
any  yourselves." 

In  this  heroic  strain  the  pamphlet  proceeds,  reaching  at 
length  the  suggestion  that  "  if  one  severe  law  w^ere  made, 
and  punctually  executed,  that  whoever  was  found  at  a  con- 
venticle should  be  banished  the  nation,  and  the  preacher 
be  hanged,  we  should  soon  see  an  end  of  the  tale — they 
would  all  come  to  church,  and  one  age  would  make  us 
all  one  again."  That  was  the  mock  churchman's  shortest 
way  for  the  suppression  of  Dissent.  He  supported  his 
argument  by  referring  to  the  success  with  which  Louis 
XIV.  had  put  down  the  Huguenots.  There  was  no  good 
in  half-measures,  fines  of  five  shillings  a  month  for  not 
coming  to  the  Sacrament,  and  one  shilling  a  week  for  not 
coming  to  church.  It  was  vain  to  expect  compliance  from 
such  trifling.  "  The  light,  foolish  handling  of  them  by 
mulcts,  fines,  etc.,  'tis  their  glory  and  their  advantage.  If 
the  gallows  instead  of  the  counter,  and  the  galleys  instead 
of  the  fines,  were  the  reward  of  going  to  a  conventicle,  to 
preach  or  hear,  there  would  not  be  so  many  suflEerers — 
the  spirit  of  martyrdom  is  over.  They  that  will  go  to 
church  to  be  chosen  sheriffs  and  mayors,  would  go  to  forty 
churches  rather  than  be  hanged."  "  Now  let  us  crucify 
the  thieves,"  said  the  author  of  this  truculent  advice  in 
conclusion.  "And  may  God  Almighty  put  it  into  the 
hearts  of  all  friends  of  truth  to  lift  up  a  standard  against 
pride  and  Antichrist,  that  the  posterity  of  the  sons  of  er- 
ror may  be  rooted  out  from  the  face  of  this  land  for  ever." 


m.J  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  8^ 

Defoe's  disguise  was  so  complete,  his  caricature  of  tho 
ferocious  High-flier  so  near  to  life,  that  at  first  people 
doubted  whether  the  Shortest  Way  was  the  work  of  a 
satirist  or  a  fanatic.  When  the  truth  leaked  out,  as  it 
soon  did,  the  Dissenters  were  hardly  better  pleased  than 
while  they  feared  that  the  proposal  was  serious.  With 
the  natural  timidity  of  precariously  situated  minorities, 
they  could  not  enter  into  the  humour  of  it.  The  very 
title  was  enough  to  make  them  shrink  and  tremble.  The 
only  people  who  were  really  in  a  position  to  enjoy  the 
jest  were  the  Whigs.  The  High -Churchmen,  some  of 
whom,  it  is  said,  were  at  first  so  far  taken  in  as  to  ex- 
press their  warm  approval,  were  furious  when  they  dis- 
covered the  trick  that  had  been  played  upon  them.  The 
Tory  ministers  of  the  Queen  felt  themselves  bound  to 
take  proceedings  against  the  author,  whose  identity  seems 
to  have  soon  become  an  open  secret.  Learning  this,  De- 
foe went  into  concealment.  A  proclamation  offering  a 
reward  for  his  discovery  was  advertised  in  the  Gazette. 
The  description  of  the  fugitive  is  interesting;  it  is  tho 
only  extant  record  of  Defoe's  personal  appearance,  except 
the  portrait  prefixed  to  his  collected  works,  in  which  the 
mole  is  faithfully  reproduced : — 

"  He  is  a  middle-aged,  spare  man,  about  forty  years  old, 
of  a  brown  complexion,  and  dark-brown  coloured  hair,  but 
wears  a  wig;  a  hooked  nose,  a  sharp  chin,  grey  eyes,  and  a 
large  mole  near  his  mouth :  was  born  in  London,  and  for 
laany  years  was  a  hose-factor  in  Freeman's  Yard  in  Coruhill, 
and  now  is  the  owner  of  the  brick  and  pantile  works  near 
Tilbury  Fort  in  Essex." 

This  advertisement  was  issued  on  the  10th  of  January, 
IY03.      Meantime   the   printer   and   the   publisher   wero 


38  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

seized.  From  his  safe  hiding,  Defoe  put  forth  an  ex- 
planation, protesting,  as  we  have  seen,  that  his  pamphlet 
had  not  the  least  retrospect  to  or  concern  in  the  public 
bills  in  Parliament  now  depending,  or  any  other  proceed- 
ing of  either  House  or  of  the  Government  relating  to  the 
Dissenters,  whose  occasional  conformity  the  author  has 
constantly  opposed.  It  was  merely,  he  pleaded,  the  cant 
of  the  Non-juring  party  exposed ;  and  he  mentioned  sev- 
eral printed  books  in  which  the  same  objects  were  ex- 
pressed, though  not  in  words  so  plain,  and  at  length.  But 
the  Government  would  not  take  this  view ;  he  had  repre- 
sented virulent  partisans  as  being  supreme  in  the  Queen's 
counsels,  and  his  design  was  manifest  "  to  blacken  the 
Church  party  as  men  of  a  persecuting  spirit,  and  to  pre- 
pare the  mob  for  what  further  service  he  had  for  them  to 
do."  Finding  that  they  would  not  listen  to  him,  Defoe 
surrendered  himself,  in  order  that  others  might  not  suffer 
for  his  offence.  He  was  indicted  on  the  24th  of  Febru- 
ary. On  the  25th,  the  Shoi'test  Way  was  brought  under 
the  notice  of  the  House  of  Commons,  and  ordered  to  be 
burnt  by  the  common  hangman.  His  trial  came  on  in 
July.  He  was  foimd  guilty  of  a  seditious  libel,  and  sen- 
tenced to  pay  a  fine  of  200  marks  to  the  Queen,  stand 
three  times  in  the  pillory,  be  imprisoned  during  the 
Queen's  pleasure,  and  find  sureties  for  his  good  behav- 
iour for  seven  years. 

Defoe  complained  that  three  Dissenting  ministers,  whose 
poor  he  had  fed  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  had  refused 
to  visit  him  during  his  confinement  in  Newgate.  There 
was,  doubtless,  a  want  of  charity  in  their  action,  but  there 
was  also  a  want  of  honesty  in  his  complaint.  If  he  ap- 
plied for  their  spiritual  ministrations,  they  had  considera- 
ble reason  for  treating  his  application  as  a  piece  of  pro* 


HI.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  89 

voking  effrontery.  Though  Defoe  was  in  prison  for  this 
banter  upon  tlie  High-fliers,  it  is  a  mistake  to  regard  him 
as  a  martyr,  except  by  accident,  to  the  cause  of  Toleration 
as  we  understand  it  now,  and  as  the  Dissenters  bore  the 
brunt  of  the  battle  for  it  then.  Before  his  trial  and  con- 
viction, while  he  lay  in  prison,  he  issued  an  exposition  of 
his  views  of  a  fair  Toleration  in  a  tract  entitled  The  Short- 
est Way  to  Peace  and  Union.  The  toleration  which  he  ad- 
vised, and  which  commended  itself  to  the  moderate  Whigs 
with  whom  he  had  acted  under  King  William  and  was 
probably  acting  now,  was  a  purely  spiritual  Toleration. 
His  proposal,  in  fact,  was  identical  with  that  of  Charles 
Leslie's  in  the  New  Association,  one  of  the  pamphlets 
whicli  he  professed  to  take  off  in  his  famous  squib.  Les- 
lie had  proposed  that  the  Dissenters  should  be  excluded 
from  all  civil  employments,  and  should  be  forced  to  re- 
main content  with  liberty  of  worship.  Addressing  the 
Dissenters,  Defoe,  in  effect,  urged  them  to  anticipate  for- 
cible exclusion  by  voluntary  withdrawal.  Extremes  on 
both  sides  should  be  industriously  crushed  and  discour- 
aged, and  the  extremes  on  the  Dissenting  side  were  those 
who,  not  being  content  to  worship  after  their  own  fash- 
ion, had  also  a  hankering  after  the  public  service.  It  is 
the  true  interest  of  the  Dissenters  in  England,  Defoe  ar- 
gued, to  be  governed  by  a  Church  of  England  magistracy ; 
and  with  his  usual  paradoxical  hardihood,  he  told  his  co- 
religionists bluntly  that  "the  first  reason  of  his  proposi- 
tion was  that  they  were  not  qualified  to  be  trasted  with 
the  government  of  themselves."  When  we  consider  the 
active  part  Defoe  himself  took  in  public  affairs,  we  shall 
not  be  surprised  that  offence  was  given  by  his  countenan- 
cing the  civil  disabilities  of  Dissenters,  and  that  the  Dissent- 
ing preachers  declined  to  recognise  him  as  properly  belong- 


40  CaNIEL  DEFOE.  [ch^ 

ing  to  their  body.  It  was  not,  indeed,  as  a  Dissenter  that 
Defoe  was  prosecuted  by  the  violent  Tories  then  in  power, 
but  as  the  suspected  literary  instrument  of  the  great  Whig 
leaders. 

This,  of  course,  in  no  way  diminishes  the  harsh  and 
spiteful  impolicy  of  the  sentence  passed  on  Defoe.  Its 
terms  were  duly  put  in  execution.  The  offending  satirist 
stood  in  the  pillory  on  the  three  last  days  of  July,  1703, 
before  the  Royal  Exchange  in  Cornhill,  near  the  Conduit 
in  Cheapside,  and  at  Temple  Bar.  It  is  incorrect,  however, 
to  say  with  Pope  that 

"  Earless  on  high  stood  unabashed  Defoe." 

His  ears  were  not  cropped,  as  the  barbarous  phrase  went, 
and  he  had  no  reason  to  be  abashed.  His  reception  by 
the  mob  was  very  different  from  that  accorded  to  the  anti- 
Jacobite  Fuller,  a  scurrilous  rogue  who  had  tried  to  make  a 
few  pounds  by  a  Plain  Proof  that  the  Chevalier  was  a  sup- 
posititious child.  The  author  of  the  True-Born  English- 
man was  a  popular  favourite,  and  his  exhibition  in  the 
pillory  was  an  occasion  of  triumph  and  not  of  ignominy 
to  him.  A  ring  of  admirers  was  formed  round  the  place 
of  punishment,  and  bunches  of  flowers  instead  of  hand- 
fuls  of  garbage  were  thrown  at  the  criminal.  Tankards 
of  ale  and  stoups  of  wine  were  drunk  in  his  honour  by 
the  multitude  whom  he  had  delighted  with  his  racy 
verse  and  charmed  by  his  bold  defiance  of  the  authori- 
ties. 

The  enthusiasm  was  increased  by  the  timely  publication 
of  a  Hymn  to  the  Pillory,  in  which  Defoe  boldly  declared 
the  iniquity  of  his  sentence,  and  pointed  out  to  the  Gov- 
ernment more  proper  objects  of  their  severity.  Atheists 
ought  to  stand  there,  he  said,  profligate  beaux,  swindling 


m.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  41 

stock-jobbers,  fanatic  Jacobites,  and  the  commanders  who 
had  brought  the  English  fleet  into  disgrace.  As  for  him, 
his  only  fault  lay  in  his  not  being  understood ;  but  he  waa 
perhaps  justly  punished  for  being  such  a  fool  as  to  trust 
his  meaning  to  irony.  It  would  seem  that  though  the 
GoveiTiment  had  committed  Defoe  to  Newgate,  they  did 
not  dare,  even  before  the  manifestation  of  popular  feeling 
in  his  favour,  to  treat  him  as  a  common  prisoner.  He 
not  only  had  liberty  to  write,  but  he  found  means  to  con- 
vey his  manuscripts  to  the  printer.  Of  these  privileges  he 
had  availed  himself  with  that  indomitable  energy  and  fer- 
tility of  resource  which  we  find  reason  to  admire  at  every 
stage  in  his  career,  and  most  of  all  now  that  he  was  in 
straits.  In  the  short  interval  between  his  arrest  and  his 
con\action  he  carried  on  a  vigorous  warfare  with  both 
hands, — with  one  hand  seeking  to  propitiate  the  Govern- 
ment, with  the  other  attracting  support  outside  among  the 
people.  He  proved  to  the  Government  incontestably,  by  a 
collection  of  his  writings,  that  he  was  a  man  of  moderate 
views,  who  had  no  aversion  in  principle  even  to  the  pro- 
posals of  the  Neio  Association.  He  proved  the  same  thing 
to  the  people  at  large  by  publishing  this  Collection  of  the 
writings  of  the  author  of  the  True-Born  Englishman,  but 
he  accompanied  the  proof  by  a  lively  appeal  to  their  sym- 
pathy under  the  title  of  More  Reformation,  a  Satire  on 
himself  a  lament  over  his  own  folly  which  was  calculated 
to  bring  pressure  on  the  Government  against  prosecuting 
a  man  so  innocent  of  public  wrong.  Wlicn,  in  spite  of 
his  efforts,  a  conviction  was  recorded  against  him,  he 
adopted  a  more  defiant  tone  towards  the  Government. 
He  wrote  the  Hijmn  to  the  Pillory.  This  daring  effusion 
was  hawked  in  the  streets  among  the  crowd  that  had  assem* 
bled  to  witness  his  penance  in  the 


42  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

"  hieroglyphic  State-machine, 
Contrived  to  jjunish  Fancy  in." 

"  Come,"  lie  cried,  in  the  concluding  lines — 

"  Tell  'em  the  M that  placed  him  here 

Are  Sc Is  to  the  times, 

Are  at  a  loss  to  find  Ms  guilt, 
And  can't  commit  his  crimes." 

"  M "  stands  for  Men,  and  "  Sc Is  "  for  Scandals. 

Defoe  delighted  in  this  odd  use  of  methods  of  reserve, 
more  common  in  his  time  than  in  ours. 

The  dauntless  courage  of  Defoe's  Hymn  to  the  Pillory 
can  only  be  properly  appreciated  when  we  remember  with 
what  savage  outrage  it  was  the  custom  of  the  mob  to  treat 
those  who  were  thus  exposed  to  make  a  London  holiday. 
From  the  pillory  he  was  taken  back  to  Newgate,  there  to 
be  imprisoned  during  her  Majesty's  pleasure.  His  con- 
finement must  have  been  much  less  disagreeable  to  him 
than  it  would  have  been  to  one  of  less  hardy  temperament. 
Defoe  was  not  the  man  to  shrink  with  loathing  from  the 
companionship  of  thieves,  highwaymen,  forgers,  coiners, 
and  pirates.  Curiosity  was  a  much  stronger  power  with 
him  than  disgust.  Newgate  had  something  of  the  charm 
for  Defoe  that  a  hospital  full  of  hideous  diseases  has  for 
an  enthusiastic  surgeon.  He  spent  many  pleasant  hours 
in  listening  to  the  tales  of  his  adventurous  fellow-prisoners. 
Besides,  the  Government  did  not  dare  to  deprive  him  of 
the  liberty  of  writing  and  publishing.  This  privilege  en- 
abled him  to  appeal  to  the  public,  whose  ear  he  had  gained 
in  the  character  of  an  undismayed  martyr,  an  enjoyment 
which  to  so  buoyant  a  man  must  have  compensated  for  a 
great  deal  of  irksome  suffering.     He  attributed  the  failure 


ni.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  43 

of  Lis  pantile  works  at  Tilbury  to  his  removal  from  the 
management  of  them ;  but  bearing  in  mind  the  amount  of 
success  that  had  attended  his  efforts  when  he  was  free,  it 
is  fair  to  suppose  that  he  was  not  altogether  sorry  for  the 
excuse.  It  was  by  no  means  the  intention  of  his  High- 
Church  persecutors  that  Defoe  should  enjoy  himself  in 
Newgate,  and  he  himself  lamented  loudly  the  strange  re- 
verse by  which  he  had  passed  within  a  few  months  from 
the  closet  of  a  king  to  a  prisoner's  cell ;  but  on  the  whole 
he  was  probably  as  happy  in  Newgate  as  he  had  been  at 
Whitehall.  His  wife  and  six  children  were  most  to  be 
commiserated,  and  their  distress  was  his  heaviest  trial. 

The  first  use  which  Defoe  made  of  his  pen  after  his  ex- 
hibition in  the  pillory  was  to  reply  to  a  Dissenting  minis- 
ter who  had  justified  the  practice  of  occasional  conformity. 
He  thereby  marked  once  more  his  separation  from  the  ex- 
treme Dissenters,  who  were  struggling  against  having  their 
religion  made  a  disqualification  for  offices  of  public  trust. 
But  in  the  changes  of  parties  at  Court  he  soon  found  a 
reason  for  marking  his  separation  from  the  opposite  ex- 
treme, and  facing  the  other  way.  Under  the  influence  of 
the  moderate  Tories,  Marlborough,  Godolphin,  and  their 
invaluable  ally,  the  Duchess,  the  Queen  was  gradually  los- 
ing faith  in  the  violent  Tories.  According  to  Swift,  she 
began  to  dislike  her  bosom  friend,  Mrs.  Freeman,  from  the 
moment  of  her  accession,  but  though  she  may  have  chafed 
under  the  yoke  of  her  favourite,  she  could  not  at  once 
shake  off  the  domination  of  that  imperious  will.  The 
Duchess,  finding  the  extreme  Tories  unfavourable  to  the 
war  in  Avhich  her  husband's  honour  and  interests  were 
deeply  engaged,  became  a  hot  partisan  against  them,  and 
used  all  their  blunders  to  break  down  their  power  at  Court. 
Day  by  day  she  impressed  upon  the  Queen  the  necessity 


44  DAKIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

of  peace  and  union  at  home  in  the  face  of  tlie  troubles 
abroad.  The  moderate  men  of  both  parties  must  be  ral- 
lied round  tbe  throne.  Extremes  on  both  sides  must  be 
discouraged.  Spies  were  set  to  work  to  take  note  of  such 
rash  expressions  among  "the  hot  and  angry  men"  as  would 
be  likely  to  damage  them  in  the  Queen's  favour.  Queen 
Anne  had  not  a  little  of  the  quiet  tenacity  and  spitefulness 
of  enfeebled  constitutions,  but  in  the  end  reason  prevailed, 
resentment  at  importunity  was  overcome,  and  the  hold  of 
the  High-Churchmen  on  her  affections  gave  way. 

Nobody,  Swift  has  told  us,  could  better  disguise  her 
feelings  than  the  Queen.  The  first  intimation  which  the 
High-Church  party  had  of  her  change  of  views  was  her 
opening  speech  to  Parliament  on  the  9th  November,  1 703, 
in  which  she  earnestly  desired  parties  in  both  Houses  to 
avoid  heats  and  divisions.  Defoe  at  once  threw  himself 
in  front  of  the  rising  tide.  Whether  he  divined  for  him- 
self that  the  influence  of  the  Earl  of  Nottingham,  the  Sec- 
retary of  State,  to  whom  he  owed  his  prosecution  and  im- 
prisonment, was  waning,  or  obtained  a  hint  to  that  effect 
from  his  Whig  friends,  we  do  not  know,  but  he  lost  no 
time  in  issuing  from  his  prison  a  bold  attack  upon  the 
High -Churchmen.  In  his  Challenge  of  Peace,  addressed 
to  the  whole  Nation,  he  denounced  them  as  Church  Vul- 
tures and  Ecclesiastical  Harpies.  It  was  they  and  not  the 
Dissenters  that  were  the  prime  movers  of  strife  and  dis- 
sension. How  are  peace  and  union  to  be  obtained,  he 
asks.  He  will  show  people  first  how  peace  and  union  can- 
not be  obtamed. 

"First,  Sacheverell's  Bloody  Flag  of  Defiance  is  not  the 
way  to  Peace  and  Union.  The  shortest  way  to  destroy  is  not 
the  shortest  way  to  unite.  Persecution,  Laws  to  Comijel,  Re- 
strain or  force  the  Conscience  of  one  another,  is  not  the  way 


ni.j  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  45 

to  this  Union,  which  her  Majesty  has  so  earnestly  recom- 
mended. 

"  Secondly,  to  repeal  or  contract  the  late  Act  of  Toleration 
is  not  the  way  for  this  so  much  wished -for  happiness;  to 
have  laws  revived  that  should  set  one  party  a  plundering, 
excommunicating  and  unchurching  another,  that  should  re- 
new the  oppressions  and  devastations  of  late  reigns,  this  will 
not  by  any  means  contribute  to  this  Peace,  which  all  good 
men  desire. 

"New  Associations  and  proposals  to  divest  men  of  their 
freehold  right  for  diflferences  in  opinion,  and  take  away  the 
right  of  Dissenters  voting  in  elections  of  Members ;  this  is 
not  the  way  to  Peace  and  Union. 

"  Railing  pamphlets,  buffooning  our  brethren  as  a  party  to 
be  suppressed,  and  dressing  them  up  in  the  Bear's  skin  for 
all  the  dogs  in  the  street  to  bait  them,  is  not  the  way  to 
Peace  and  Union. 

"  Railing  sermons,  exciting  people  to  hatred  and  contempt 
of  their  brethren,  because  they  difler  in  opinions,  is  not  the 
way  to  Peace  and  Union. 

"  Shutting  all  people  out  of  employment  and  the  service 
of  their  Prince  and  Country,  unless  they  can  comply  with  in- 
different ceremonies  of  religion,  is  far  from  the  way  to  Peace 
and  Union. 

"Reproaching  the  Succession  settled  by  Parliament,  and 
reviving  the  abdicated  title  of  the  late  King  James,  and  his 
supposed  family,  cannot  tend  to  this  Peace  and  Union, 

"Laws  against  Occasional  Conformity,  and  compelling 
people  who  bear  offices  to  a  total  conformity,  and  yet  force 
them  to  take  and  serve  in  those  public  employments,  cannot 
contribute  to  this  Peace  and  Union." 

In  this  passage  Defoe  seems  to  ally  himself  more  close- 
ly with  his  Dissenting  brethren  than  he  had  done  before. 
It  was  diflficult  for  him,  with  his  published  views  on  the 
objectionablcness  of  occasional  conformity,  and  the  pro- 


46  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chat. 

priety  of  Dissenters  leaving  the  magistracy  in  the  hands 
of  the  Church,  to  maintain  his  new  position  without  incur« 
ring  the  charge  of  inconsistency.  The  charge  was  freely 
made,  and  his  own  writings  were  collected  as  a  testimony 
against  him,  but  he  met  the  charge  boldly.  The  Dissent- 
ers ought  not  to  practise  occasional  conformity,  but  if 
they  could  reconcile  it  with  their  consciences,  they  ought 
not  to  receive  temporal  punishment  for  practising  it.  The 
Dissenters  ought  to  withdraw  from  the  magistracj' ,  but  it 
was  persecution  to  exclude  them.  In  tract  after  tract  of 
brilliant  and  trenchant  argument,  he  upheld  these  views, 
with  his  usual  courage  attacking  most  fiercely  those  an- 
tagonists who  went  most  nearly  on  the  lines  of  his  own 
previous  writings.  Ignoring  what  he  had  said  before,  he 
now  proved  clearly  that  the  Occasional  Conformity  Bill 
was  a  breach  of  the  Act  of  Toleration.  There  was  little 
difference  between  his  own  Shortest  Way  to  Peace  and 
Union  and  Sir  Humphrey  Mackworth's  Peace  at  Home, 
but  he  assailed  the  latter  pamphlet  vigorously,  and  showed 
that  it  had  been  the  practice  in  all  countries  for  Dissent- 
ers from  the  established  religion  to  have  a  share  in  the 
business  of  the  State.  At  the  same  time  he  never  depart- 
ed so  far  from  the  "  moderate  "  point  of  view,  as  to  insist 
that  Dissenters  ought  to  be  admitted  to  a  share  in  the 
business  of  the  State.  Let  the  High-Church  ministers  be 
dismissed,  and  moderate  men  summoned  to  the  Queen's 
councils,  and  the  Dissenters  would  have  every  reason  to  be 
content.  They  would  acquiesce  with  pleasure  in  a  minis- 
try and  magistracy  of  Low-Churchmen. 

Defoe's  assaults  upon  the  High-Church  Tories  were  nei- 
ther interdicted  nor  i-esented  by  the  Government,  though 
he  lay  in  prison  at  their  mercy.  Throughout  the  winter 
of  1V03-4  the  extreme  members  of  the  Ministry,  though 


ui]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  47 

they  had  still  a  majority  in  the  House  of  Commons,  feU 
the  Queen's  coldness  increase.  Their  former  high  place 
in  her  regard  and  their  continued  hold  upon  Parliament 
tempted  them  to  assume  airs  of  independence  which  gave 
deeper  offence  than  her  unrulfled  courtesy  led  either  them 
or  their  rivals  to  suspect.  At  last  the  crisis  came.  Tho 
Earl  of  Nottingham  took  the  rash  step  of  threatening  to 
resign  unless  the  Whig  Dukes  of  Somerset  and  Devon- 
shire were  dismissed  from  the  Cabinet.  To  his  surprise 
and  chagrin,  his  resignation  was  accepted  (1704),  and  two 
more  of  his  party  were  dismissed  from  office  at  the  same 
time. 

The  successor  of  Nottingham  was  Robert  Harley,  after- 
wards created  Earl  of  Oxford  and  Mortimer.  He  gave  evi- 
dence late  in  life  of  his  love  for  literature  by  forming  the 
collection  of  manuscripts  known  as  the  Harleian,  and  we 
know  from  Swift  that  he  was  deeply  impressed  with  the 
importance  of  having  allies  in  the  Press.  He  entered 
upon  office  in  May,  1704,  and  one  of  his  first  acts  was  to 
convey  to  Defoe  the  message,  "  Pray,  ask  that  gentleman 
what  I  can  do  for  him."  Defoe  replied  by  likening  him- 
self to  the  blind  man  in  the  parable,  and  paraphrasing  his 
prayer,  "  Lord,  that  I  may  receive  my  sight !"  He  would 
not  seem  to  have  obtained  his  liberty  immediately,  but, 
through  Harley's  influence,  he  was  set  free  towards  the 
end  of  July  or  the  beginning  of  August.  The  Queen 
also,  he  afterwards  said, "  was  pleased  particularly  to  in- 
quire into  his  circumstances  and  family,  and  by  Lord 
Treasurer  Godolphin  to  send  a  considerable  supply  to  his 
wife  and  family,  and  to  send  him  to  the  prison  money  to 
pay  his  fine  and  the  expenses  of  his  discharge." 

On  what  condition  was  Defoe  released  ?  On  condition, 
according  to  the  Elegy  on  the  Author  of  the  True-Born 


48  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

Englishman,  which  he  published  immediately  after  his 
discharge,  that  he  should  keep  silence  for  seven  years,  or 
at  least  "  not  write  what  some  people  might  not  like." 
To  the  public  he  represented  himself  as  a  martyr  grudg- 
ingly released  by  the  Government,  and  restrained  from  at- 
tacking them  only  by  his  own  bond  and  the  fear  of  legal 
penalties. 

"  Memento  Mori  here  I  stand, 
With  silent  lips  but  speaking  hand ; 

A  walking  shadow  of  a  Poet, 
But  bound  to  hold  my  tongue  and  never  show  it. 

A  monument  of  injury, 

A  sacrifice  to  legal  t(yrann)y." 

*'  For  shame,  gentlemen,"  he  humorously  cries  to  his  ene- 
mies, "  do  not  strike  a  dead  man ;  beware,  scribblers,  of 
fathering  your  pasquinades  against  authority  upon  me; 
for  seven  years  the  True-Born  Englishman  is  tied  under 
sureties  and  penalties  not  to  write. 

"  To  seven  long  years  of  silence  I  betake, 
Perhaps  by  then  I  may  forget  to  speak." 

This  elegy  he  has  been  permitted  to  publish  as  his  last 
speech  and  dying  confession — 

"  When  malefactors  come  to  die 
They  claim  uncommon  liberty : 
Freedom  of  speech  gives  no  distaste, 
They  let  them  talk  at  large,  because  they  talk  their  last." 

The  public  could  hardly  have  supposed  from  this  what 
Defoe  afterwards  admitted  to  have  been  the  true  state  of 
the  case,  namely,  that  on  leaving  prison  he  was  taken  into 
the  service  of  the  Government.     He  obtained  an  appoint- 


III.]  A  MARTYR  TO  DISSENT?  49 

ment,  that  is  to  say  a  pension,  from  the  Queen,  and  was 
employed  on  secret  services.  When  charged  afterwards 
witli  liaving  written  by  Harley's  instructions,  he  denied 
this,  but  admitted  the  existence  of  certain  "  capitulations," 
in  which  he  stipulated  for  liberty  to  write  according  to  his 
own  judgment,  guided  only  by  a  sense  of  gratitude  to  his 
benefactor.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  even  this  is 
not  the  whole  truth.  Documents  which  Mr.  Lee  recently 
brought  to  light  make  one  suspect  that  Defoe  was  all  the 
time  in  private  relations  with  the  leaders  of  the  Whig 
party.  Of  this  more  falls  to  be  said  in  another  place. 
The  True-Born  Englishman  was,  indeed,  dead.  Defoe  was 
no  longer  the  straightforward  advocate  of  King  W^illiam's 
policy.  He  was  engaged  henceforward  in  serving  two 
masters,  persuading  each  that  he  served  him  alone,  and 
persuading  the  public,  in  spite  of  numberless  insinuations, 
that  he  served  nobody  but  them  and  himself,  and  wrote 
simply  as  a  free  lance  under  the  jealous  sufferance  of  the 
Government  of  the  day. 

I  must  reserve  for  a  separate  chapter  some  account  of 
Defoe's  greatest  political  work,  which  he  began  while  he 
still  lay  in  Newgate,  the  Review.  Another  work  which  he 
wrote  and  published  at  the  same  period  deserves  attention 
on  different  grounds.  His  history  of  the  great  storm  of 
November,  1703,  A  Collection  of  the  most  remarkable  Cas- 
ualties and  Disasters  which  happened  in  the  late  Dreadfal 
Tempest,  both  by  Sea  and  Land,  may  be  set  down  as  the 
first  of  his  works  of  invention.  It  is  a  most  minute  and 
circumstantial  record,  containing  many  letters  from  eye- 
witnesses of  what  happened  in  their  immediate  neighbour- 
hood. Defoe  could  have  seen  little  of  the  storm  himself 
from  the  interior  of  Newgate,  but  it  is  possible  that  the 
letters  are  genuine,  and  that  he  compiled  other  details 
31  3* 


50  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap,  iil 

from  published  accounts.  Still,  we  are  justified  in  sus* 
pecting  that  his  annals  of  the  storm  are  no  more  authentic 
history  than  his  Journal  of  the  Plague^  or  his  Memoirs  of 
a  Cavalier,  and  that  for  many  of  the  incidents  he  is  equal- 
ly indebted  to  his  imagination. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE, 

Jt  was  fi  bold  undertaking  for  a  prisoner  in  Newgate  to 
engage  to  furnish  a  newspaper  written  wholly  by  himself, 
"  purged  from  the  errors  and  partiality  of  news-writers 
and  petty  statesmen  of  all  sides."  It  would,  of  course, 
have  been  an  impossible  undertaking  if  the  Review  had 
been,  either  in  size  or  in  contents,  like  a  newspaper  of  the 
present  time.  The  Revieio  was,  in  its  first  stage,  a  sheet 
of  eight  small  quarto  pages.  After  the  first  two  numbers, 
it  was  reduced  in  size  to  four  pages,  but  a  smaller  type 
was  used,  so  that  the  amount  of  matter  remained  nearly 
the  same — about  equal  in  bulk  to  two  modern  leading 
articles.  At  first  the  issue  was  weekly ;  after  four  num- 
bers it  became  bi-weekly,  and  so  remained  for  a  year. 

For  the  character  of  the  Review  it  is  difficult  to  find 
a  parallel.  There  was  nothing  like  it  at  the  time,  and 
nothing  exactly  like  it  has  been  attempted  since.  The 
nearest  approach  to  it  among  its  predecessors  was  the 
Observator,  a  small  weekly  journal  written  by  the  erratic 
John  Tutchin,  in  which  passing  topics,  political  and  social, 
were  discussed  in  dialogues.  Personal  scandals  were  a 
prominent  feature  in  the  Observator.  Defoe  was  not  in- 
sensible to  the  value  of  this  element  to  a  popular  jour- 


52  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

nal.  He  knew,  he  said,  that  people  liked  to  be  amused ; 
and  he  supplied  this  want  in  a  section  of  his  paper  en- 
titled "  Mercure  Scandale  ;  or.  Advice  from  the  Scandal- 
ous Club,  being  a  weekly  history  of  Nonsense,  Imperti- 
nence, Vice,  and  Debauchery."  Under  this  attractive 
heading,  Defoe  noticed  current  scandals,  his  club  being 
represented  as  a  tribunal  before  which  offenders  were 
brought,  their  cases  heard,  and  sentence  passed  upon  them. 
Slanderers  of  the  True-Born  Englishman  frequently  figure 
in  its  proceedings.  It  was  in  this  section  also  that  Defoe 
exposed  the  errors  of  contemporary  news-writers,  the  Post- 
man,  the  Post-Boy,  the  London  Post,  the  Flying  Post,  and 
the  Daily  Courant.  He  could  not  in  his  prison  pretend 
to  superior  information  regarding  the  events  of  the  day; 
the  errors  which  he  exposed  were  chiefly  blunders  in  ge- 
ography and  history.  The  Mercure  Scandale  was  avow- 
edly intended  to  amuse  the  frivolous.  The  lapse  of  time 
has  made  its  artificial  sprightliness  dreary.  It  was  in  the 
serious  portion  of  the  Review,  the  Review  proper,  that  De- 
foe showed  most  of  his  genius.  The  design  of  this  was 
nothing  less  than  to  give  a  true  picture,  drawn  with  "  an 
impartial  and  exact  historical  pen,"  of  the  domestic  and 
foreign  affairs  of  all  the  States  of  Europe.  It  was  essen- 
tial, he  thought,  that  at  such  a  time  of  commotion  Eng- 
lishmen should  be  thoroughly  informed  of  the  strength 
and  the  political  interests  and  proclivities  of  the  various 
European  Powers.  He  could  not  undertake  to  tell  his 
readers  what  was  passing  from  day  to  day,  but  he  conld 
explain  to  them  the  policy  of  the  Continental  Courts ;  he 
could  show  how  that  policy  was  affected  by  their  past  his- 
tory and  present  interests;  he  could  calculate  the  forces 
at  their  disposal,  set  forth  the  grounds  of  their  alliances, 
and  generally  put  people  in  a  position  to  follow  the  great 


IV.]        THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE.  53 

game  that  was  being  played  on  the  European  chcss-boartL 
In  the  Revieio,  in  fact,  as  lie  himself  described  his  task,  he 
was  writing  a  history  sheet  by  sheet,  and  letting  the  world 
see  it  as  it  went  on. 

This  excellent  plan  of  instruction  was  carried  out  with  in- 
comparable brilliancy  of  method,  and  vivacity  of  style.  De- 
foe was  thoroughly  master  of  his  subject ;  he  had  read  ev- 
ery history  that  he  could  lay  his  hands  on,  and  his  connex- 
ion with  King  William  had  guided  him  to  the  mainsprings 
of  political  action,  and  fixed  in  his  mind  clear  principles  for 
England's  foreign  policy.  Such  a  mass  of  facts  and  such 
a  maze  of  interests  would  have  encumbered  and  perplexed 
a  more  commonplace  intellect,  but  Defoe  handled  them 
with  experienced  and  buoyant  ease.  He  had  many  arts 
for  exciting  attention.  His  confinement  in  Newgate,  from 
which  the  first  number  of  the  Revieiv  was  issued  on  the 
19th  February,  1704,  had  in  no  way  impaired  his  clear- 
sighted daring  and  self-confident  skill.  There  was  a  spar- 
kle of  paradox  and  a  significant  lesson  in  the  very  title  of 
his  journal — A  Review  of  the  Affairs  of  France.  When, 
by  and  by,  he  digressed  to  the  affairs  of  Sweden  and  Po- 
land, and  filled  number  after  number  with  the  history  of 
Hungary,  people  kept  asking,  "  What  has  this  to  do  with 
France  ?"  "  How  little  you  understand  my  design,"  was 
Defoe's  retort.  "  Patience  till  my  work  is  completed,  and 
then  you  will  see  that,  however  much  I  may  seem  to  have 
been  digressing,  I  have  always  kept  strictly  to  the  point. 
Do  not  judge  me  as  you  judged  St.  Paul's  before  the  roof 
was  put  on.  It  is  not  affairs  in  France  that  I  have  un- 
dertaken to  explain,  but  the  affairs  of  France ;  and  the  af- 
fairs of  France  are  the  affairs  of  Europe.  So  great  is  the 
power  of  the  French  money,  the  artifice  of  their  conduct, 
the  terror  of  their  arms,  that  they  can  bring  the  greatest 


54  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

kings  in  Europe  to  promote  their  interest  and  grandeur  at 
the  expense  of  their  own.'' 

Defoe  delighted  to  brave  common  prejudice  by  throw- 
ing full  in  its  face  paradoxes  expressed  in  the  most  un- 
qualified language.  While  we  were  at  war  with  France, 
and  commonplace  hunters  after  popularity  were  doing 
their  utmost  to  flatter  the  national  vanity,  Defoe  boldly 
announced  his  intention  of  setting  forth  the  wonderful 
greatness  of  the  French  nation,  the  enormous  numbers  of 
their  armies,  the  immense  wealth  of  their  treasury,  the 
marvellous  vigour  of  their  administration.  He  ridiculed 
loudly  those  writers  who  pretended  that  we  should  have 
no  difficulty  in  beating  them,  and  filled  their  papers  with 
dismal  stories  about  the  poverty  and  depopulation  of  the 
country.  *'  Consider  the  armies  that  the  French  King  ha« 
raised,"  cried  Defoe,  "and  the  reinforcements  and  subsi- 
dies he  has  sent  to  the  King  of  Spain ;  does  that  look  like 
a  depopulated  country  and  an  impoverished  exchequer?'" 
It  was  perhaps  a  melancholy  fact,  but  what  need  to  apolo- 
gise for  telling  the  truth?  At  once,  of  course,  a  shout 
was  raised  against  him  for  want  of  patriotism ;  he  was  a 
French  pensioner,  a  Jacobite,  a  hireling  of  the  Peace-party. 
This  was  the  opportunity  on  which  the  chuckling  paradox- 
monger  had  counted.  He  protested  that  he  was  not  draw- 
ing a  map  of  the  French  power  to  terrify  the  English. 
But,  he  said,  "  there  are  two  cheats  equally  hurtful  to  us ; 
the  first  to  terrify  us,  the  last  to  make  us  too  easy  and 
consequently  too  secure ;  'tis  equally  dangerous  for  us  to 
be  terrified  into  despair  and  bullied  into  more  terror  of 
our  enemies  than  we  need,  or  to  be  so  exalted  in  conceit 
of  our  own  force  as  to  undervalue  and  contemn  the  power 
which  we  cannot  reduce."  To  blame  him  for  making 
clear  the  greatness  of  the  French  power,  was  to  act  as  if 


IV.]        THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE.  55 

the  Romans  had  killed  the  geese  in  the  Capitol  for  fright- 
ening them  out  of  their  sleep.  "  If  I,  like  an  honest  Prot- 
estant goose,  have  gaggled  too  loud  of  the  French  power, 
and  raised  the  country,  the  French  indeed  may  have  rea- 
son to  cut  my  throat  if  they  could ;  but  'tis  hard  my  own 
countrymen,  to  whom  I  have  shown  their  danger,  and 
whom  I  have  endeavoured  to  wake  out  of  their  sleep,  should 
take  offence  at  the  timely  discovery." 

If  we  open  the  first  volume,  or  indeed  any  volume  of 
the  Review,  at  random,  wc  arc  almost  certain  to  meet  with 
some  electric  shock  of  paradox  designed  to  arouse  the  at- 
tention of  the  torpid.  In  one  number  we  find  the  writer, 
ever  daring  and  alert,  setting  out  with  an  eulogium  on 
"the  wonderful  benefit  of  arbitrary  power"  in  France. 
He  runs  on  in  this  vein  for  some  time,  accumulating  ex- 
amples of  the  wonderful  benefit,  till  the  patience  of  his 
liberty-loving  readers  is  sufficiently  exasperated,  and  then 
he  turns  round  with  a  gTin  of  mockery  and  explains  that 
he  means  benefit  to  the  monarch,  not  to  the  subject.  "  If 
any  man  ask  me  what  are  the  benefits  of  arbitrary  power 
to  the  subject,  I  answer  these  ivio, poverty  and  subjection.'''' 
But  to  an  ambitious  monarch  unlimited  power  is  a  neces- 
sity ;  unless  he  can  count  upon  instant  obedience  to  his 
will,  he  only  courts  defeat  if  he  embarks  in  schemes  of 
aggression  and  conquest. 

"  When  a  Prince  must  court  his  subjects  to  give  him  leave 
to  raise  an  army,  and  when  that's  done,  tell  him  when  he 
must  disband  them ;  that  if  he  wants  money,  he  must  assem- 
ble the  States  of  his  country,  and  not  only  give  them  good 
words  to  get  it,  and  tell  them  what  'tis  for,  but  give  them  an 
account  how  it  is  expended  before  he  asks  for  more.  The 
subjects  in  such  a  government  are  certainly  happy  in  having 
their  property  and  privileges  secured,  but  if  I  were  of  hia 


66  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

Privy  Council,  I  would  advise  such  a  Prince  to  content  him- 
self within  the  compass  of  his  own  government,  and  nevej 
think  of  invading  his  neighbours  or  increasing  his  domin- 
ions, for  subjects  who  stipulate  with  their  Princes,  and  make 
conditions  of  government,  who  claim  to  be  governed  by  laws 
and  make  those  laws  themselves,  who  need  not  pay  their 
money  but  when  they  see  cause,  and  may  refuse  to  pay  it 
when  demanded  without  their  consent;  such  subjects  will 
never  empty  their  purses  upon  foreign  wars  for  enlarging  the 
glory  of  theii"  sovereign." 

This  glory  he  describes  as  "the  leaf -gold  which  the  devil 
has  laid  over  the  backside  of  ambition,  to  make  it  glitter 
to  the  world." 

Defoe's  knowledge  of  the  irritation  caused  among  the 
Dissenters  by  his  Shortest  Way,  did  not  prevent  him  from 
shocking  them  and  annoying  the  high  Tories  by  similar 
jeux  d'esprit.  He  had  no  tenderness  for  the  feelings  of 
such  of  his  brethren  as  had  not  his  own  robust  sense  of 
humour  and  boyish  glee  in  the  free  handling  of  dangerous 
weapons.  Thus  we  find  him,  among  his  eulogies  of  the 
Grand  Monarque,  particularly  extolling  him  for  the  revo- 
cation of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  By  the  expulsion  of  the 
Protestants,  Louis  impoverished  and  unpeopled  part  of  his 
country,  but  it  was  "  the  most  politic  action  the  French 
King  ever  did."  "  I  don't  think  fit  to  engage  here  in  a 
dispute  about  the  honesty  of  it,"  says  Defoe ;  "  but  till 
he  had  first  cleared  the  country  of  that  numerous  injured 
people,  he  could  never  have  ventured  to  carry  an  offensive 
war  into  all  the  borders  of  Europe."  And  Defoe  was 
not  content  with  shocking  the  feelings  of  his  nominal  co- 
religionists by  a  light  treatment  of  matters  in  which  he 
agreed  with  them.  He  upheld  with  all  his  might  the  op- 
posite view  from  theirs  on  two  important  questions  of  for- 


IV.J        THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE.  6T 

eign  policy.  While  the  Confederates  were  doing  battle 
on  all  sides  against  France,  the  King  of  Sweden  was  mak- 
ing war  on  his  own  account  against  Poland  for  the  avow- 
ed purpose  of  placing  a  Protestant  prince  on  the  throne. 
Extreme  Protestants  in  England  were  disposed  to  think 
that  Charles  XII.  was  fighting  the  Lord's  battle  in  Poland. 
But  Defoe  was  strongly  of  opinion  that  the  work  in  which 
all  Protestants  ought  at  that  moment  to  be  engaged  was 
breaking  down  the  power  of  France,  and  as  Charles  re- 
fused to  join  the  Confederacy,  and  the  Catholic  prince 
against  whom  he  was  fighting  was  a  possible  adherent,  the 
ardent  preacher  of  union  among  the  Protestant  powers  in- 
sisted upon  regarding  him  as  a  practical  ally  of  France, 
and  urged  that  the  English  fleet  should  be  sent  into  the 
Baltic  to  inten-upt  his  communications.  Disunion  among 
Protestants,  argued  Defoe,  was  the  main  cause  of  French 
greatness;  if  the  Swedish  King  would  not  join  the  Con- 
federacy of  his  own  free  will,  he  should  be  compelled  to 
join  it,  or  at  least  to  refrain  from  weakening  it. 

Defoe  treated  the  revolt  of  the  Hungarians  against  the 
Emperor  with  the  same  regard  to  the  interests  of  the  Prot- 
estant cause.  Some  uneasiness  was  felt  in  England  at  co- 
operating with  an  ally  who  so  cruelly  oppressed  his  Prot- 
estant subjects,  and  some  scruple  of  conscience  at  seeming 
to  countenance  the  oppression.  Defoe  fully  admitted  the 
wrongs  of  the  Hungarians,  but  argued  that  this  was  not 
the  time  for  them  to  press  their  claims  for  redress.  He 
would  not  allow  that  they  were  justified  at  such  a  moment 
in  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  Turks  against  the  Emperor. 
"It  is  not  enough  that  a  nation  be  Protestant  and  the 
people  our  friends ;  if  they  will  join  with  our  enemies, 
they  are  Papists,  Turks,  and  Heathens,  to  us,"  *'If  the 
Protestants  in  Hungary  will  make  the  Protestant  religion 


58  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

in  Hungary  clasli  witli  tlie  Protestant  religion  in  all  the 
rest  of  Europe,  we  must  prefer  the  major  interest  to  the 
minor."  Defoe  treats  every  foreign  question  from  the 
cool  high-political  point  of  view,  generally  taking  up  a  po- 
sition from  which  he  can  expose  the  unreasonableness  of 
both  sides.  In  the  case  of  the  Cevennois  insurgents,  one 
party  had  used  the  argument  that  it  was  unlawful  to  en- 
courage rebellion  even  among  the  subjects  of  a  prince  with 
whom  we  were  at  war.  With  this  Defoe  dealt  in  one  ar- 
ticle, proving  with  quite  a  superfluity  of  illustration  that 
we  were  justified  by  all  the  precedents  of  recent  history  in 
sending  support  to  the  rebellious  subjects  of  Louis  XIV. 
It  was  the  general  custom  of  Europe  to  "assist  the  mal- 
contents of  our  neighbours."  Then  in  another  article  he 
considered  whether,  being  lawful,  it  was  also  expedient, 
and  he  answered  this  in  the  negative,  treating  with  scorn 
a  passionate  appeal  for  the  Cevennois  entitled  "  Europe  en- 
slaved if  the  Camisars  are  not  relieved."  "  What  nonsense 
is  this,"  he  cried,  "  about  a  poor  despicable  handful  of  men 
who  have  only  made  a  little  diversion  in  the  great  war !" 
"The  haste  these  men  are  in  to  have  that  done  which 
they  cannot  show  us  the  way  to  do !"  he  cried ;  and  pro- 
ceeded to  prove  in  a  minute  discussion  of  conceivable  str^»- 
tegic  movements  that  it  was  impossible  for  us  in  the  cir 
cumstances  to  send  tjie  Camisards  the  least  relief. 

There  is  no  reference  in  the  Revieio  to  Defoe's  release 
from  prison.  Two  numbers  a  week  were  issued  with  the 
same  punctuality  before  and  after,  and  there  is  no  percep- 
tible difference  either  in  tone  or  in  plan.  Before  he  left 
prison,  and  before  the  fall  of  the  high  Tory  Ministers,  he 
had  thrown  in  his  lot  boldly  with  the  moderate  men,  and 
he  did  not  identify  himself  more  closely  with  any  political 
section  after  Harley  and  Godolphin  recognized  the  value 


IV.]        THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE.  59 

of  Lis  support  and  gave  Liin  liberty  and  pecuniary  help. 
In  the  first  number  of  the  Review  he  had  declared  his  free- 
dom from  party  ties,  and  his  unreserved  adherence  to  truth 
and  the  public  interest,  and  he  made  frequent  protestation 
of  this  independence.  "  I  am  not  a  party  man,"  he  kept 
saying ;  "  at  least,  I  resolve  this  shall  not  be  a  party  pa- 
per." In  discussing  the  affairs  of  France,  he  took  more 
than  one  side-glance  homewards,  but  always  with  the  pro- 
test that  he  had  no  interest  to  serve  but  that  of  his  coun- 
tr}'.  The  absolute  power  of  Louis,  for  example,  furnished 
him  with  an  occasion  for  lamenting  the  disunited  counsels 
of  Her  Majesty's  Cabinet.  Without  imitating  the  despot- 
ic form  of  the  French  Government,  he  said,  there  are  ways 
by  which  we  might  secure  under  our  own  forms  greater 
decision  and  promptitude  on  the  part  of  the  Executive, 
"When  Nottingham  was  dismissed,  he  rejoiced  openly,  not 
because  the  ex-Secretary  had  been  his  persecutor,  but  be- 
cause at  last  there  was  unity  of  views  among  the  Queen's 
Ministers.  He  joined  naturally  in  the  exultation  over 
Marlborough's  successes,  but  in  the  Hevieio,  and  in  his 
Hymn  to  Victory,  separately  published,  he  courteously  di- 
verted some  part  of  the  credit  to  the  new  Ministry.  "  Her 
Majesty's  measures,  moved  by  new  and  polished  councils, 
have  been  pointed  more  directly  at  the  root  of  the  French 
power  than  ever  we  have  seen  before.  I  hope  no  man  will 
suppose  I  reflect  on  the  memory  of  King  William ;  I  know 
'tis  impossible  the  Queen  should  more  sincerely  wish  the 
reduction  of  France  than  his  late  Majesty ;  but  if  it  is  ex- 
pected I  should  say  he  was  not  worse  served,  oftener  be- 
trayed, and  consequently  hurried  into  more  mistakes  and 
disasters,  than  Her  Majesty  now  is,  this  must  be  by  some- 
body who  believes  I  know  much  less  of  the  public  matters 
of  those  days  than  I  had  the  honour  to  be  informed  of." 


60  DAKTEL  DEFOE.  [chajP. 

But  this  praise,  lie  represented,  was  not  tlie  praise  of  a  par. 
tisan;  it  was  an  honest  compliment  wrung  from  a  man 
whose  only  connexion  with  the  Government  was  a  bond 
for  his  good  behaviour,  an  undertaking  "  not  to  write  what 
some  people  might  not  like." 

Defoe's  hand  being  against  every  member  of  the  writ- 
ing brotherhood,  it  was  natural  that  his  reviews  should 
not  pass  without  severe  criticisms.  He  often  complained 
of  the  insults,  ribaldry.  Billingsgate,  and  Bear-garden  lan- 
guage to  which  he  was  exposed  ;  and  some  of  his  biogra- 
phers have  taken  these  lamentations  seriously,  and  express- 
ed their  regret  that  so  good  a  man  should  have  been  so 
much  persecuted.  But  as  he  deliberately  provoked  these 
assaults,  and  never  missed  a  chance  of  efEective  retort,  it 
is  difficult  to  sympathise  with  him  on  any  ground  but  his 
manifest  delight  in  the  strife  of  tongues.  Infinitely  the 
superior  of  his  antagonists  in  power,  he  could  affect  to 
treat  them  with  good  humour,  but  this  good  humour  was 
not  easy  to  reciprocate  when  combined  with  an  impertur- 
bable assumption  that  they  were  all  fools  or  knaves. 
When  we  find  him,  after  humbly  asking  pardon  for  all 
his  errors  of  the  press,  errors  of  the  pen,  or  errors  of  opin- 
ion, expressing  a  wish  that  "  all  gentlemen  on  the  other 
side  would  give  him  equal  occasion  to  honour  them  for 
their  charity,  temper,  and  gentlemanlike  dealing,  as  for 
their  learning  and  \'irtue,"  and  offering  to  "  capitulate  with 
them,  and  enter  into  a  treaty  or  cartel  for  exchange  of 
good  language,"  we  may,  if  we  like,  admire  his  superior 
mastery  of  the  weapons  of  irritation,  but  pity  is  out  of 
place. 

The  number  of  February  17,  1705,  was  announced  by 
Defoe  as  being  "  the  last  Review  of  this  volume,  and  de- 
signed to  be  so  of  this  work."     But  on  the  following 


IV.]        THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  FRANCE.  61 

Tuesday,  the  regular  day  for  the  appearance  of  the  Rc' 
view,  he  issued  another  number,  declaring  that  he  could 
not  quit  the  volume  without  some  remarks  on  "charity 
and  poverty."  On  Saturday  yet  another  last  number  ap- 
peared, dealing  with  some  social  subjects  which  he  had 
been  urged  by  correspondents  to  discuss.  Then  on  Tues- 
day, February  27,  apologising  for  the  frequent  turning  of 
his  design,  he  issued  a  Preface  to  a  new  volume  of  the  Re- 
view,  with  a  slight  change  of  title.  He  would  overtake 
sooner  or  later  all  the  particulars  of  French  greatness 
which  he  had  promised  to  survey,  but  as  the  course  of  his 
narrative  had  brought  him  to  England,  and  he  might  stay 
there  for  some  time,  it  was  as  well  that  this  should  be  in- 
dicated in  the  title,  which  was  henceforth  to  be  A  Review 
of  the  Affairs  of  France,  with  Observations  on  Affairs  at 
Home.  He  had  intended,  he  said,  to  abandon  the  work 
altogether,  but  some  gentlemen  had  prevailed  with  him  to 
go  on,  and  had  promised  that  he  should  not  be  at  a  loss 
by  it.     It  was  now  to  be  issued  three  times  a  week. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ADVOCATE  OF  PEACE  AND  UNION. 

In  putting  forth  the  prospectus  of  the  second  volume  of 
his  Revieio,  Defoe  intimated  that  its  prevaiHng  topic 
would  be  the  Trade  of  England — a  vast  subject,  with  many 
branches,  all  closely  interwoven  with  one  another  and  with 
the  general  well-being  of  the  kingdom.  It  grieved  him, 
he  said,  to  see  the  nation  involved  in  such  evils  while  rem- 
edies lay  at  hand  which  blind  guides  could  not,  and  wick- 
ed guides  would  not,  see — trade  decaying,  yet  within  reach 
of  the  greatest  improvements,  the  navy  flourishing,  yet 
fearfully  mismanaged,  rival  factions  brawling  and  fight- 
ing when  they  ought  to  combine  for  the  common  good. 
"Nothing  could  have  induced  him  to  undertake  the  un- 
grateful office  of  exposing  these  things,  but  the  full  per- 
suasion that  he  was  capable  of  convincing  anything  of  an 
Englishman  that  had  the  least  angle  of  his  soul  untainted 
with  partiality,  and  that  had  the  least  concern  left  for  the 
good  of  his  country,  that  even  the  worst  of  these  evils 
were  easy  to  be  cured ;  that  if  ever  this  nation  were  ship- 
wrecked and  undone,  it  must  be  at  the  very  entrance  of 
her  port  of  deliverance,  in  the  sight  of  her  safety  that 
Providence  held  out  to  her,  in  the  sight  of  her  safe  estab- 
lishment, a  prosperous  trade,  a  regular,  easily  -  supplied 


CHAP,  v.]    THE  ADVOCATE  OF  PEACE  AND  UNION.  e."] 

navy,  and  a  general  reformation  both  in  manners  and 
methods  in  Church  and  State." 

Defoe  began  as  usual  by  laying  down  various  clear 
heads,  under  which  he  promised  to  deal  with  the  whole 
field  of  trade.  But  as  usual  he  did  not  adhere  to  this  sys- 
tematic plan.  He  discussed  some  topics  of  the  day  with 
brilliant  force,  and  then  he  suddenly  digressed  to  a  sub- 
ject only  collaterally  connected  with  trade.  The  Queen,  in 
opening  the  session  of  1704-5,  had  exhorted  her  Parlia- 
ment to  peace  and  union ;  but  the  High-Churchmen  were 
too  hot  to  listen  to  advice  even  from  her.  The  Occasional 
Conformity  Bill  was  again  introduced  and  carried  in  the 
Commons.  The  Lords  rejected  it.  The  Commons  per- 
sisted, and  to  secure  the  passing  of  the  measure,  tacked  it 
to  a  Bill  of  Supply.  The  Lords  refused  to  pass  the  Money 
Bill  till  the  tack  was  withdrawn.  Soon  afterwards  the 
Parliament  —  Parliaments  were  then  triennial  —  was  dis- 
solved, and  the  canvass  for  a  general  election  set  in  amidst 
unusual  excitement.  Defoe  abandoned  the  quiet  topic  of 
trade,  and  devoted  the  Review  to  electioneering  articles. 

But  he  did  not  take  a  side,  at  least  not  a  party  side. 
He  took  the  side  of  peace  and  his  country.  "  I  saw  with 
concern,"  he  said,  in  afterwards  explaining  his  position, 
"  the  weighty  juncture  of  a  new  election  for  members  ap- 
proach, the  variety  of  wheels  and  engines  set  to  work  in 
the  nation,  and  the  furious  methods  to  form  interests  on 
either  hand  and  put  the  tempers  of  men  on  all  sides  into 
an  unusual  motion  ;  and  things  seemed  acted  with  so  much 
animosity  and  party  fury  that  I  confess  it  gave  me  terrible 
apprehensions  of  the  consequences."  On  both  sides  "  the 
methods  seemed  to  him  very  scandalous."  "  In  many 
places  most  horrid  and  villainous  practices  were  set  on  foot 
to  supplant  one  another.     The  parties  stooped  to  vile  and 


64  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

unbecoming  meannesses;  infinite  briberies,  forgeries,  per- 
juries, and  all  manner  of  debauchings  of  the  principles  and 
manners  of  the  electors  were  attempted.  All  sorts  of  vio- 
lences, tumults,  riots,  breaches  of  the  peace,  neighbour- 
hood, and  good  manners  were  made  use  of  to  support  in- 
terests and  carry  elections."  In  short,  Defoe  saw  the  na- 
tion "running  directly  on  the  steep  precipice  of  confu- 
sion.'* In  these  circumstances,  he  seriously  reflected  what 
he  should  do.  He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must 
"  immediately  set  himself  in  the  Revieio  to  exhort,  per- 
suade, entreat,  and  m  the  most  moving  terms  he  was  capa- 
ble of,  prevail  on  all  people  in  general  to  study  Peace." 

Under  cover  of  this  profession  of  impartiality,  Defoe  is- 
sued most  effective  attacks  upon  the  High-Church  party. 
In  order  to  promote  peace,  he  said,  it  was  necessary  to 
ascertain  first  of  all  who  were  the  enemies  of  peace.  On 
the  surface,  the  questions  at  stake  in  the  elections  were  the 
privileges  of  the  Dissenters  and  the  respective  rights  of 
the  Lords  and  the  Commons  in  the  matter  of  Money  Bills. 
But  people  must  look  beneath  the  surface.  "  King  James, 
French  power,  and  a  general  turn  of  affairs  was  at  the  bot- 
tom, and  the  quarrels  between  Church  and  Dissenters  only 
a  politic  noose  they  had  hooked  the  parties  on  both  sides 
into."  Defoe  lashed  the  Tackers  into  fury  by  his  exhor- 
tations to  the  study  of  peace.  He  professed  the  utmost 
good  -  will  to  them  personally,  though  he  had  not  words 
strong  enough  to  condemn  their  conduct  in  tacking  the 
Occasional  Bill  to  a  Money  Bill  when  they  knew  that  the 
Lords  would  reject  it,  and  so  in  a  moment  of  grave  na- 
tional peril  leave  the  army  without  supplies.  The  Queen, 
in  dissolving  Parliament,  had  described  this  tacking  as  a 
dangerous  experiment,  and  Defoe  explained  the  experi- 
ment as  being  "  whether  losing  the  Money  Bill,  breaking 


v.]  THE  ADVOCATE  OF  PEACE  AND  UNION.  66 

up  the  Houses,  disbanding  the  Confederacy,  and  opening 
the  door  to  the  French,  might  not  have  been  for  the  inter- 
est of  the  High-Church."  Far  be  it  from  him  to  use  Bil- 
hngsgate  language  to  the  Tackers,  but "  the  effect  of  their 
action,  which,  and  not  their  motive,  he  had  to  consider, 
would  undoubtedly  be  to  let  in  the  French,  depose  the 
Queen,  bring  in  the  Prince  of  Wales,  abdicate  the  Prot- 
estant religion,  restore  Popery,  repeal  the  Toleration,  and 
persecute  the  Dissenters."  Still  it  was  probable  that  the 
Tackers  meant  no  harm.  Humanuvi  est  errare.  He  was 
certain  that  if  he  showed  them  their  error,  they  would  re- 
pent and  be  converted.  All  the  same,  he  could  not  recom- 
mend them  to  the  electors.  "  A  Tacker  is  a  man  of  pas- 
sion, a  man  of  heat,  a  man  that  is  for  ruining  the  nation 
upon  any  hazards  to  obtain  his  ends.  Gentlemen  free- 
holders, you  must  not  choose  a  Tacker,  unless  you  will  de- 
stroy our  peace,  divide  our  strength,  pull  down  the  Church, 
let  in  the  French,  and  depose  the  Queen." 

From  the  dissolution  of  Parliament  in  April  till  the  end 
of  the  year  Defoe  preached  from  this  text  with  infinite 
variety  and  vigour.  It  is  the  chief  subject  of  the  second 
volume  of  the  Revieio.  The  elections,  powerfully  influ- 
enced by  Marlborough's  successes  as  well  as  by  the  elo- 
quent championship  of  Defoe,  resulted  in  the  entire  defeat 
of  the  High  Tories,  and  a  further  weeding  of  them  out 
of  high  places  in  the  Administration.  Defoe  was  able  to 
close  this  volume  of  the  Review  with  expressions  of  delight 
at  the  attainment  of  the  peace  for  which  he  had  laboured, 
and,  the  victory  being  gained  and  the  battle  over,  to  prom- 
ise a  return  to  the  intermitted  subject  of  Trade.  He  re- 
turned to  this  subject  in  the  beginning  of  his  third  vol- 
ume. But  he  had  not  pursued  it  long  when  he  was  again 
called  away.  The  second  diversion,  as  he  pointed  out,  was 
32  4 


66  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

strictly  analogous  to  the  first.  It  was  a  summons  to  him 
to  do  his  utmost  to  promote  the  union  of  the  two  king- 
doms of  England  and  Scotland.  "  From  the  same  zeal," 
Defoe  said,  "with  which  I  first  pursued  this  blessed  sub- 
ject of  peace,  I  found  myself  embarked  in  the  further  ex- 
tent of  it,  I  mean  the  Union.  If  I  thought  myself  obliged 
in  duty  to  the  public  interest  to  use  my  utmost  endeavour 
to  quiet  the  minds  of  enraged  parties,  I  found  myself  un- 
der a  stronger  necessity  to  embark  in  the  same  design  be- 
tween two  most  enraged  nations." 

The  union  of  the  two  kingdoms  had  become  an  object 
of  pressing  and  paramount  importance  towards  the  close 
of  William's  reign.  He  had  found  little  difficulty  in  get- 
ting the  English  Parliament  to  agree  to  settle  the  succes- 
sion of  the  House  of  Hanover,  but  the  proposal  that  the 
succession  to  the  throne  of  Scotland  should  be  settled  on 
the  same  head  was  coldly  received  by  the  Scottish  Parlia- 
ment. It  was  not  so  much  that  the  politicians  of  Edin- 
burgh were  averse  to  a  common  settlement,  or  positively 
eager  for  a  King  and  Court  of  their  own,  but  they  were 
resolved  to  hold  back  till  they  were  assured  of  commer- 
cial privileges  which  would  go  to  compensate  them  for  the 
drain  of  wealth  that  was  supposed  to  have  followed  the 
King  southwards.  This  was  the  policy  of  the  wiser  heads, 
not  to  accept  the  Union  without  as  advantageous  terms  as 
they  could  secure.  They  had  lost  an  opportunity  at  the 
Revolution,  and  were  determined  not  to  lose  another.  But 
among  the  mass  of  the  population  the  feeling  was  all  in 
favour  of  a  separate  kingdom.  National  animosity  had 
been  inflamed  to  a  passionate  pitch  by  the  Darien  disas- 
ter and  the  Massacre  of  Glencoe.  The  people  listened 
readily  to  the  insinuations  of  hot-headed  men  that  the 
English  wished  to  have  everything  their  own  way.     The 


v.]  THE  ADVOCATE  OF  PEACE  AND  UNION.  67 

counter  -  charge  about  the  Scotcli  found  equally  willing 
hearers  among  the  mass  in  England.  Never  had  cool- 
headed  statesmen  a  harder  task  in  preventing  two  nations 
from  coming  to  blows.  All  the  time  that  the  Treaty  of 
Union  was  being  negotiated  which  King  William  had 
earnestly  urged  from  his  deathbed,  throughout  the  first 
half  of  Queen  Anne's  reign  they  worked  under  a  continiial 
apprehension  lest  the  negotiations  should  end  in  a  violent 
and  irreconcilable  rupture. 

Defoe  might  well  say  that  he  was  pursuing  the  same 
blessed  subject  of  Peace  in  trying  to  reconcile  these  two 
most  enraged  nations,  and  writing  with  all  his  might  for 
the  Union.  An  Act  enabling  the  Queen  to  appoint  Com- 
missioners on  the  English  side  to  arrange  the  terms  of  the 
Treaty  had  been  passed  in  the  first  year  of  her  reign,  but 
difficulties  had  arisen  about  the  appointment  of  the  Scot- 
tish Commissioners,  and  it  was  not  till  the  Spring  of  1706 
that  the  two  Commissions  came  together.  When  they  did 
at  last  meet,  they  found  each  other  much  more  reasonable 
and  practical  in  spirit  than  had  appeared  possible  during 
the  battle  over  the  preliminaries.  But  wliile  the  states- 
men sat  concocting  the  terms  of  the  Treaty  almost  amica- 
bly, from  April  to  July,  the  excitement  raged  fiercely  out 
of  doors.  Amidst  the  blaze  of  recriminations  and  counter- 
recriminations,  Defoe  moved  energetically  as  the  Apostle 
of  Peace,  making  his  Review  play  like  a  fireman's  hose 
upon  the  flames.  He  did  not  try  to  persuade  the  Scotch 
to  peace  by  the  same  methods  which  he  had  used  in  the 
case  of  the  High-fliers  and  Tackers.  His  Reviews  on  this 
subject,  full  of  spirit  as  ever,  are  models  of  the  art  of  con- 
ciliation. He  wrestled  ardently  with  national  prejudices 
on  both  sides,  vindicating  the  Scotch  Presbyterians  from 
the  charge  of  religious  intolerance,  labouring  to  prove  that 


68  DAXIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

the  English  were  not  all  to  blame  for  the  collapse  of  the 
Darien  expedition  and  the  Glencoe  tragedy,  expounding 
what  was  fair  to  both  nations  in  matters  concerning  trade. 
Abuse  was  heaped  upon  him  plentifully  by  hot  partisans ; 
he  was  charged  with  want  of  patriotism  from  the  one  side, 
and  with  too  much  of  it  from  the  other;  but  he  held  on 
his  way  manfully,  allowing  no  blow  from  his  aspersers  to 
pass  unreturned.  Seldom  has  so  bold  and  skilful  a  soldier 
been  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  peace. 

Defoe  was  not  content  with  the  Revieio  as  a  literary  in- 
strument of  pacification.  He  carried  on  the  war  in  both 
capitals,  answering  the  pamphlets  of  the  Scotch  patriots 
with  counter-pamphlets  from  the  Edinburgh  press.  He 
published  also  a  poem,  "  in  houour  of  Scotland,"  entitled 
Caledonia,  with  an  artfully  flattering  preface,  in  which  he 
declared  the  poem  to  be  a  simple  tribute  to  the  greatness 
of  the  people  and  the  country  without  any  reference  what- 
ever to  the  Union.  Presently  he  found  it  expedient  to 
make  Edinburgh  his  head  -  quarters,  though  he  continued 
sending  the  Review  three  times  a  week  to  his  London 
printer.  When  the  Treaty  of  Union  had  been  elaborated 
by  the  Commissioners  and  had  passed  the  English  Parlia- 
ment, its  difficulties  were  not  at  an  end.  It  had  still  to 
pass  the  Scotch  Parliament,  and  a  strong  faction  there, 
riding  on  the  storm  of  popular  excitement,  insisted  on  dis- 
cussing it  clause  by  clause.  Moved  partly  by  curiosity, 
partly  by  earnest  desire  for  the  public  good,  according  to 
his  own  account  in  the  Review  and  in  his  History  of  the 
Union,  Defoe  resolved  to  undertake  the  "  long,  tedious, 
and  hazardous  journey  "  to  Edinburgh,  and  use  all  his  in- 
fluence to  push  the  Treaty  through.  It  was  a  task  of  no 
small  danger,  for  the  prejudice  against  the  Union  went  so 
high  in  the  Scottish  capital  that  he  ran  the  risk  of  being 


v.]  THE  ADVOCATE  OF  PEACE  AND  UNION.  69 

torn  to  pieces  by  the  populace.  In  one  riot  of  which  ho 
gives  an  account,  his  lodging  was  beset,  and  for  a  time  he 
was  in  as  much  peril  "  as  a  grenadier  on  a  counter-scarp." 
Still  he  went  on  writing  pamphlets,  and  lobbying  members 
of  Parliament.  Owing  to  his  intimate  knowledge  of  all 
matters  relating  to  trade,  he  also  "  had  the  honour  to  be 
frequently  sent  for  into  the  several  Committees  of  Parlia- 
ment which  were  appointed  to  state  some  difficult  points 
relating  to  equalities,  taxes,  prohibitions,  &c."  Even  when 
the  Union  was  agreed  to  by  the  Parliaments  of  both  king- 
doms, and  took  effect  formally  in  May,  1707,  difficulties 
arose  in  putting  the  details  in  operation,  and  Defoe  pro- 
longed his  stay  in  Scotland  through  the  whole  of  that 
year. 

In  this  visit  to  Scotland  Defoe  protested  to  the  world  at 
the  time  that  he  had  gone  as  a  diplomatist  on  his  own  ac- 
count, purely  in  the  interests  of  peace.  But  a  suspicion 
arose  and  was  very  free  expressed,  that  both  in  this  jour- 
ney and  in  previous  journeys  to  the  West  and  the  North 
of  England  during  the  elections,  he  was  serving  as  the 
agent,  if  not  as  the  spy,  of  the  Government.  These  re- 
proaches he  denied  with  indignation,  declaring  it  particu- 
larly hard  that  he  should  be  subjected  to  such  despiteful 
and  injurious  treatment  even  by  writers  "  embarked  in  the 
same  cause,  and  pretending  to  write  for  the  same  public 
good."  "  I  contemn,"  he  said  in  his  History,  "  as  not 
worth  mentioning,  the  suggestions  of  some  people,  of  my 
being  employed  thither  to  carry  on  the  interest  of  a  party. 
I  have  never  loved  any  parties,  but  with  my  utmost  zeal 
have  sincerely  espoused  the  great  and  original  interest  of 
this  nation,  and  of  all  nations — I  mean  truth  and  liberty, — 
and  whoever  are  of  that  party,  I  desire  to  be  with  them." 
lie  took  up  the  same  charges  more  passionately  in  the 


70  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [cHAt 

Preface  to  the  ttird  volume  of  the  JReview,  and  dealt  with 
them  in  some  brilliant  passages  of  apologetic  eloquence. 

"  I  must  confess,"  he  said,  "  I  have  sometimes  thought  it 
very  hard,  that  having  voluntarily,  without  the  least  direc- 
tion, assistance,  or  encouragement,  in  spite  of  all  that  has 
been  suggested,  taken  upon  me  the  most  necessary  work  of 
removing  national  prejudices  against  the  two  most  capital 
blessings  of  the  world,  Peace  and  Union,  I  should  have  the 
disaster  to  have  the  nations  receive  the  doctrine  and  damn 
the  teacher. 

"  Should  I  descend  to  particulars,  it  would  hardly  appear 
credible  that  in  a  Christian,  a  Protestant,  and  a  Reformed 
nation,  any  man  should  receive  such  treatment  as  I  have 
done,  even  from  those  very  people  whose  consciences  and 
judgments  have  stooped  to  the  venerable  truth,  owned  it 
has  been  useful,  serviceable,  and  seasonable.  .  .  . 

"  I  am  charged  with  partiality,  bribery,  pensions,  and  pay- 
ments— a  thing  the  circumstances,  family,  and  fortunes  of  a 
man  devoted  to  his  country's  peace  clears  me  of.  If  paid, 
gentlemen,  for  writing,  if  hired,  if  employed,  why  still  har- 
assed with  merciless  and  malicious  men,  why  pursued  to  all 
extremities  by  law  for  old  accounts,  which  you  clear  other 
men  of  every  day  ?  Why  oppressed,  distressed,  and  driven 
from  his  family  and  from  all  his  prospects  of  delivermg  them 
or  himself?  Is  this  the  fate  of  men  employed  and  hired? 
Is  this  the  figure  the  agents  of  Courts  and  Princes  make  ? 
Certainly  had  I  been  hired  or  employed,  those  people  who 
own  the  service  would  by  this  time  have  set  their  servant 
free  from  the  little  and  implacable  malice  of  litigious  perse- 
cutions, murthering  warrants,  and  men  whose  mouths  are  to 
be  stopt  by  trifles.  Let  this  suffice  to  clear  me  of  all  the  lit- 
tle and  scandalous  charges  of  being  hired  and  employed." 

But  then,  people  ask,  if  he  was  not  officially  employed, 
what  had  he  to  do  with  these  affairs  ?  Why  should  he 
meddle  with  them  5     To  this  he  answers: — 


v.]  THE  ADVOCATE  OF  PEACE  AND  UNION.  71 

"  Truly,  gentlemen,  this  is  just  the  case.  I  saw  a  parcel  of 
people  caballing  together  to  ruin  property,  corrupt  the  laws, 
invade  the  Government,  dcbaucli  tlie  people,  and  in  short,  en- 
slave and  embroil  the  nation,  and  I  cried  '  Fire  !'  or  rather  I 
cried  '  Water !'  for  the  fire  was  begun  already.  I  see  all  the 
nation  running  into  confusions  and  directly  flying  in  the  face 
of  one  another,  and  cried  out '  Peace !'  I  called  upon  all  sorts 
of  people  that  had  any  senses  to  collect  them  together  and 
judge  for  themselves  what  they  were  going  to  do,  and  ex- 
cited them  to  lay  hold  of  the  madmen  and  take  from  them 
the  wicked  weapon,  the  knife  with  which  they  Avere  going  to 
destroy  their  mother,  rip  up  the  bowels  of  their  countiy,  and 
at  last  effectually  ruin  themselves. 

"  And  what  had  I  to  do  with  this  ?  ^Vliy,  yes,  gentlemen, 
I  had  the  same  right  as  every  man  that  has  a  footing  in  his 
country,  or  that  has  a  posterity  to  possess  liberty  and  claim 
right,  must  have,  to  preserve  the  laws,  liberty,  and  government 
of  that  country  to  which  he  belongs,  and  he  that  charges  me 
with  meddling  in  what  does  not  concern  me,  meddles  him- 
self with  what  'tis  plain  he  does  not  understand." 

"  I  am  not  the  first,"  Defoe  said  in  another  place,  "  that 
has  been  stoned  for  saying  the  truth.  I  cannot  but  think 
that  as  time  and  the  conviction  of  their  senses  will  restore 
men  to  love  the  peace  now  established  in  this  nation,  so 
they  will  gradually  see  I  have  acted  no  part  but  that  of  a 
lover  of  my  country,  and  an  honest  man." 

Time  has  undeniably  shown  that  in  these  efforts  to  pro- 
mote party  peace  and  national  union  Defoe  acted  like  a 
lover  of  his  country,  and  that  his  aims  were  the  aims  of  a 
statesmanlike  as  well  as  an  honest  man.  And  yet  his  protr 
estations  of  independence  and  spontaneity  of  action,  with 
all  their  ring  of  truth  and  all  their  solemnity  of  assevera- 
tion, were  merely  diplomatic  blinds.  He  was  all  the  time, 
as  he  afterwards  admitted,  when  the  admission  could  do 


n  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap.  V. 

no  harm  except  to  liis  own  passing  veracity,  acting  as  the 
agent  of  Harley,  and  in  enjoyment  of  an  "appointment" 
from  the  Queen.  What  exactly  the  nature  of  his  secret 
services  in  Scotland  and  elsewhere  were,  he  very  properly 
refused  to  reveal.  His  business  probably  was  to  ascertain 
and  report  the  opinions  of  influential  persons,  and  keep  the 
Government  informed  as  far  as  he  could  of  the  general 
state  of  feeling.  At  any  rate  it  was  not  as  he  alleged, 
mere  curiosity,  or  the  fear  of  his  creditors,  or  private  en- 
terprise, or  pure  and  simple  patriotic  zeal  that  took  Defoe 
to  Scotland.  The  use  he  made  of  his  debts  as  diplomatic 
instruments  is  curious.  He  not  merely  practised  his  fac- 
ulties in  the  management  of  his  creditors,  which  one  of 
Lord  Beaconsfield's  characters  commends  as  an  incompara- 
ble means  to  a  sound  laiowledge  of  human  nature ;  but  he 
made  his  debts  actual  pieces  in  his  political  game.  His 
poverty,  apparent,  if  not  real,  served  as  a  screen  for  his  em- 
ployment under  Government.  When  he  was  despatched 
on  secret  missions,  he  could  depart  wiping  his  eyes  at  the 
hards^hip  of  having  to  flee  from  his  cxeditora. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DR.  SACHKVERELL,  AND  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

Some  of  Defoe's  biographers  have  claimed  for  him  that  he 
anticipated  the  doctrines  of  Free  Trade.  This  is  an  error. 
It  is  true  that  Defoe  was  never  tired  of  insisting,  in  pam- 
phlets, books,  and  number  after  number  of  the  Eevieio,  on 
the  all-importance  of  trade  to  the  nation.  Trade  was  the 
foundation  of  England's  greatness ;  success  in  trade  was  the 
most  honourable  patent  of  nobility ;  next  to  the  mainten- 
ance of  the  Protestant  religion,  the  encouragement  of  trade 
should  be  the  chief  care  of  English  statesmen.  On  these 
heads  Defoe's  enthusiasm  was  boundless,  and  his  eloquence 
inexhaustible.  It  is  true  also  that  he  supported  with  all 
his  might  the  commercial  clauses  of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht, 
which  sought  to  abolish  the  prohibitory  duties  on  our  trade 
with  France,  It  is  this  last  circumstance  which  has  earned 
for  him  the  repute  of  being  a  pioneer  of  Free  Trade.  But 
his  title  to  that  repute  does  not  bear  examination.  He  was 
not  so  far  in  advance  of  his  age  as  to  detect  the  fallacy 
of  the  mercantile  system.  On  the  contrary,  he  avowed  his 
adherence  to  it  against  those  of  his  contemporaries  who 
were  inclined  to  call  it  in  question.  How  Defoe  came  to 
support  the  new  commercial  treaty  with  France,  and  the 
grounds  on  which  he  supported  it,  can  only  be  understood 
by  looking  at  his  relations  with  the  Government. 
F  4* 


H  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

While  Defoe  was  living  in  Scotland  in  1707,  and  fill- 
ing the  Review  so  exclusively  with  Scotch  aflEairs  that  his 
readers,  according  to  his  own  account,  began  to  say  that 
the  fellow  could  talk  of  nothing  but  the  Union,  and  had 
grown  mighty  dull  of  late,  Harley's  position  in  the  Min- 
istry was  gradually  becoming  very  insecure.  He  was  sus- 
pected of  cooling  in  his  zeal  for  the  war,  and  of  keep- 
ing up  clandestine  relations  with  the  Tories;  and  when 
Marlborough  returned  from  his  campaign  at  the  close  of 
the  year  he  insisted  upon  the  Secretary's  dismissal.  The 
Queen,  who  secretly  resented  the  Marlborough  yoke,  at 
first  refused  her  consent.  Presently  an  incident  occurred 
which  gave  them  an  excuse  for  more  urgent  pressure.  One 
Gregg,  a  clerk  in  Harley's  office,  was  discovered  to  be  in 
secret  correspondence  with  the  French  Court,  furnishing 
Louis  with  the  contents  of  important  State  papers.  Har- 
ley  was  charged  with  complicity.  This  charge  was  ground- 
less, but  he  could  not  acquit  himself  of  gross  negligence  in 
the  custody  of  his  papers.  Godolphin  and  Marlborough 
threatened  to  resign  unless  he  w^as  dismissed.  Then  the 
Queen  yielded. 

When  Harley  fell,  Defoe,  according  to  his  own  account, 
in  the  Appeal  to  Honour  and  Justice,  looked  upon  him- 
self as  lost,  taking  it  for  granted  that  "  when  a  great 
officer  fell,  all  who  came  in  by  his  interest  fall  with  him," 
But  when  his  benefactor  heard  of  this,  and  of  Defoe's 
"  resolution  never  to  abandon  the  fortunes  of  the  man  to 
whom  he  owed  so  much,"  he  kindly  urged  the  devoted 
follower  to  think  rather  of  his  own  interest  than  of  any 
romantic  obligation.  "  My  lord  Treasurer,"  he  said,  "  will 
employ  you  in  nothing  but  what  is  for  the  public  service, 
and  agreeably  to  your  own  sentiments  of  things ;  and  be- 
sides, it  is  the  Queen  you  are  serving,  who  has  been  very 


VI.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  70 

good  to  you.  Pray  apply  yourself  as  you  used  to  do ;  I 
shall  not  take  it  ill  from  you  in  the  least."  To  Godolphin 
accordingly  Defoe  applied  himself,  was  by  him  introduced 
a  second  time  to  Her  Majesty  and  to  the  honour  of  kiss- 
ing her  haud,  and  obtained  "the  continuance  of  an  ap- 
pointment which  Her  Majesty  had  been  pleased  to  make 
him  in  consideration  of  a  former  special  service  he  had 
done."  This  was  the  appointment  which  he  held  while 
he  was  challenging  his  enemies  to  say  whether  his  outward 
circumstances  looked  like  the  figure  the  agents  of  Courts 
and  Princes  make. 

The  services  on  which  Defoe  was  employed  were,  as 
before,  of  two  kinds,  active  and  literary.  Shortly  after 
the  change  in  the  Ministry  early  in  1708,  news  came  of 
the  gathering  of  the  French  expedition  at  Dunkirk,  with 
a  view,  it  was  suspected,  of  trying  to  effect  a  landing  in 
Scotland.  Defoe  was  at  once  despatched  to  Edinburgh 
on  an  errand  which,  he  says,  was  "  far  from  being  unfit 
for  a  sovereign  to  direct  or  an  honest  man  to  perform." 
If  his  duties  were  to  mix  with  the  people  and  ascertain  the 
state  of  public  feeling,  and  more  specifically  to  sound  sus- 
pected characters,  to  act,  in  short,  as  a  political  detective 
or  spy,  the  service  was  one  which  it  was  essential  that  the 
Government  should  get  some  trustworthy  person  to  under- 
take, and  which  any  man  at  such  a  crisis  might  perform, 
if  he  could,  without  any  discredit  to  his  honesty  or  his 
patriotism.  The  independence  of  the  sea-girt  realm  was 
never  in  greater  peril.  The  French  expedition  was  a  well- 
conceived  diversion,  and  it  was  imperative  that  the  Gov- 
ernment should  know  on  what  amount  of  support  the 
invaders  might  rely  in  the  bitterness  prevailing  iu  Scot- 
land after  the  Union.  Fortunately  the  loyalty  of  the 
Scotch  Jacobites  was  not  put  to  the  test.     As  in  the  case 


76  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

of  the  Spanisli  Armada,  accident  fought  on  our  side.  The 
French  fleet  succeeded  in  reaching  the  coast  of  Scotland 
before  the  ships  of  the  defenders;  but  it  overshot  its 
arranged  landing-point,  and  had  no  hope  but  to  sail  back 
ingloriously  to  Dunkirk.  Meantime,  Defoe  had  satisfacto- 
rily discharged  himself  of  his  mission.  Godolphin  showed 
his  appreciation  of  his  ser\'ices  by  recalling  him  as  soon 
as  Parliament  was  dissolved,  to  travel  through  the  counties 
and  serve  the  cause  of  the  Government  in  the  general  elec- 
tions. He  was  frequently  sent  to  Scotland  again  on  simi- 
larly secret  errands,  and  seems  to  have  established  a  print- 
ing business  there,  made  arrangements  for  the  simultane- 
ous issue  of  the  Revieio  in  Edinburgh  and  London,  besides 
organizing  Edinburgh  newspapers,  executing  commissions 
for  English  merchants,  and  setting  on  foot  a  linen  manu- 
factory. 

But  we  are  more  concerned  with  the  literary  labors 
of  this  versatile  and  indefatigable  genius.  These,  in  the 
midst  of  his  multifarious  commercial  and  diplomatic  con- 
cerns, he  never  intermitted.  All  the  time  the  Revieio  con- 
tinued to  give  a  brilliant  support  to  the  Ministry.  The 
French  expedition  had  lent  a  new  interest  to  the  affairs  of 
Scotland,  and  Defoe  advertised,  that  though  he  never  in- 
tended to  make  the  Review  a  newspaper,  circumstances 
enabled  him  to  furnish  exceptionally  correct  intelligence 
from  Scotland  as  well  as  sound  impartial  opinions.  The 
intelligence  which  he  communicated  was  all  with  a  pur- 
pose, and  a  good  purpose — the  promotion  of  a  better  un- 
derstanding between  the  united  nations.  He  never  had  a 
better  opportunity  for  preaching  from  his  favourite  text  of 
Peace  and  Union,  and  he  used  it  characteristically,  cham- 
pioning the  cause  of  the  Scotch  Presbyterians,  asserting 
the  firmness  of  their  loyalty,  smoothing  over  trading  griev- 


VI.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  11 

ances  by  showing  elaborately  how  both  sides  benefited 
from  the  arrangements  of  the  Union,  launching  shafts  in 
every  direction  at  his  favourite  butts,  and  never  missing  a 
chance  of  exulting  in  his  own  superior  wisdom.  In  what 
a  posture  would  England  have  been  now,  he  cried,  if  those 
wiseacres  had  been  listened  to,  who  were  for  trusting  the 
defence  of  England  solely  to  the  militia  and  the  fleet! 
Would  our  fleet  have  kept  the  French  from  landing  if 
Providence  had  not  interposed;  and  if  they  had  landed, 
would  a  militia,  undermined  by  disaffection,  have  been 
able  to  beat  them  back?  The  French  king  deser\'ed  a 
vote  of  thanks  for  opening  the  eyes  of  the  nation  against 
foolish  advisers,  and  for  helping  it  to  heal  internal  divis- 
ions, Louis,  poor  gentleman,  was  much  to  be  pitied,  for 
his  informers  had  evidently  served  him  badly,  and  had  led 
him  to  expect  a  greater  amount  of  support  from  disloyal 
factions  than  they  had  the  will  or  the  courage  to  give  him. 
During  the  electoral  canvass,  Defoe  surpassed  himself  in 
the  lively  vigour  of  his  advocacy  of  the  Whig  cause.  "And 
now,  gentlemen  of  England,"  he  began  in  the  Revieio — as 
it  went  on  he  became  more  and  more  direct  and  familiar 
in  his  manner  of  addressing  his  readers — "  now  we  are 
a-going  to  choose  Parliament  men,  I  will  tell  you  a  story." 
And  he  proceeded  to  tell  how  in  a  certain  borough  a  great 
patron  procured  the  election  of  a  *'  shock  dog  "  as  its  par- 
liamentary representative.  Money  and  ale,  Defoe  says, 
could  do  anything.  "  God  knows  I  speak  it  with  regret 
for  you  all  and  for  your  posterity,  it  is  not  an  impossi- 
ble thing  to  debauch  this  nation  into  a  choice  of  thieves, 
knaves,  devils,  shock  dogs,  or  anything  comparatively 
speaking,  by  the  power  of  various  intoxications."  He 
spent  several  numbers  of  the  Review  in  an  ironical  advice 
to  the  electors  to  choose  Tories,  showing  with  all  his  skill 


78  DANIEL  DEFOE.  ];chap. 

"  the  mighty  and  prevailing  reason  why  we  should  have  a 
Tory  Parliament."  "  0  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  if  we  have 
any  mind  to  buy  some  more  experience,  be  sure  and  choose 
Tories."  *'  We  want  a  little  instruction,  we  want  to  go  to 
school  to  knaves  and  fools."  Afterwards,  dropping  this 
thin  mask,  he  declared  that  among  the  electors  only  "  the 
drunken,  the  debauched,  the  swearing,  the  persecuting " 
would  vote  for  the  High-fliers.  "  The  grave,  the  sober,  the 
thinking,  the  prudent,"  would  vote  for  the  Whigs.  "  A 
House  of  Tories  is  a  House  of  De\^ls."  '•  If  ever  we  have 
a  Tory  Parliament,  the  nation  is  undone."  In  his  Appeal 
to  Honour  and  Justice  Defoe  explained,  that  while  he  was 
serving  Godolphin,  "being  resolved  to  remove  all  possible 
ground  of  suspicion  that  he  kept  any  secret  correspondence, 
he  never  visited,  or  wrote  to,  or  any  way  coiTCsponded 
with  his  principal  benefactor  for  above  three  years."  See- 
ing that  Harley  was  at  that  time  the  leader  of  the  party 
which  Defoe  was  denouncing  with  such  spirit,  it  would 
have  been  strange  indeed  if  there  had  been  much  inter- 
course between  them. 

Though  regarded  after  his  fall  from  office  as  the  natu- 
ral leader  of  the  Tory  party,  Harley  was  a  very  reserved 
politician,  who  kept  his  own  counsel,  used  instruments  of 
many  shapes  and  sizes,  steered  clear  of  entangling  engage- 
ments, and  left  himself  free  to  take  advantage  of  various 
opportunities.  To  wage  war  against  the  Ministry  was  the 
work  of  more  ardent  partisans.  He  stood  by  and  waited 
while  Bolingbroke  and  Rochester  and  their  allies  in  the 
press  cried  out  that  the  Government  was  now  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemies  of  the  Church,  accused  the  Whigs  of  pro 
tracting  the  war  to  fill  their  own  pockets  with  the  plun- 
der of  the  Supplies,  and  called  upon  the  nation  to  put  an 
end  to  their  jobbery  and  mismanagement.     The  victory  of 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  79 

Oudeuarde  in  the  summer  of  1708  gave  them  a  new  han- 
dle. "  What  is  the  good,"  they  cried,  "  of  these  glorious 
victories,  if  they  do  not  bring  peace  ?  What  do  we  gain 
by  beating  the  French  in  campaign  after  campaign,  if  we 
never  bring  them  nearer  to  submission  ?  It  is  incredible 
that  the  French  King  is  not  willing  to  make  peace,  if  the 
Whigs  did  not  profit  too  much  by  the  war  to  give  peace 
any  encouragement."  To  these  arguments  for  peace,  De- 
foe opposed  himself  steadily  in  the  Review.  "  Well,  gen- 
tlemen," he  began,  when  the  news  came  of  the  battle  of 
Oudcnarde,  "  have  the  French  noosed  themselves  again  ? 
Let  us  pray  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  that  a  speedy  peace 
may  not  follow,  for  what  would  become  of  us?"  He  was 
as  willing  for  a  peace  on  honourable  terms  as  any  man,  but 
a  peace  till  the  Protestant  Succession  was  secured  and  the 
balance  of  power  firmly  settled,  "  would  be  fatal  to  peace 
at  home,"  "  If  that  fatal  thing  called  Peace  abroad  should 
happen,  we  shall  certainly  be  undone."  Presently,  how- 
ever, the  French  King  began  to  make  promising  overtures 
for  peace ;  the  Ministry,  in  hopes  of  satisfactory  terms, 
encouraged  them ;  the  talk  through  the  nation  was  all  of 
peace,  and  the  Whigs  contented  themselves  with  passing 
an  address  to  the  Crown  through  Parliament  urging  the 
Queen  to  make  no  peace  till  the  Pretender  should  be  dis- 
owned by  the  French  Court,  and  the  Succession  guaran- 
teed by  a  compact  with  the  Allies.  Throughout  the  win- 
ter the  Review  expounded  with  brilliant  clearness  the  only 
conditions  on  which  an  honourable  peace  could  be  founded, 
and  prepared  the  nation  to  doubt  the  sincerity  with  which 
Louis  had  entered  into  negotiations.  Much  dissatisfaction 
was  felt,  and  that  dissatisfaction  was  eagerly  fanned  by  the 
Tories  when  the  negotiations  fell  through,  in  consequence 
of  the  distrust  with  which  the  allies  regarded  Louis,  and 


80  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

their  imposing  upon  Mm  too  hard  a  test  of  his  honesty. 
Defoe  fought  vigorously  against  the  popular  discontent. 
The  charges  against  Marlborough  were  idle  rhodomontade. 
We  had  no  reason  to  be  discouraged  with  the  progress  of 
the  war  unless  we  had  formed  extravagant  expectations. 
Though  the  French  King's  resources  had  been  enfeebled, 
and  he  might  reasonably  have  been  expected  to  desire 
peace,  he  did  not  care  for  the  welfare  of  France  so  much 
as  for  his  own  glory ;  he  would  fight  to  gain  his  purpose 
while  there  was  a  pistole  in  his  treasury,  and  we  must  not 
expect  Paris  to  be  taken  in  a  week.  Nothing  could  be 
more  admirable  than  Godolphin's  management  of  our  own 
Treasury ;  he  deserved  almost  more  credit  than  the  Duke 
himself.  "  Your  Treasurer  has  been  your  general  of  gen- 
erals ;  without  his  exquisite  management  of  the  cash  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  must  have  been  beaten," 

The  Sacheverell  incident,  which  ultimately  led  to  the 
overthrow  of  the  Ministry,  gave  Defoe  a  delightful  open- 
ing for  writing  in  their  defence.  A  collection  of  his  arti- 
cles on  this  subject  would  show  his  controversial  style  at 
its  best  and  brightest.  Sacheverell  and  he  were  old  an- 
tagonists. Sacheverell's  "bloody  flag  and  banner  of  defi- 
ance," and  other  High-flying  truculencies,  had  furnished 
him  with  the  main  basis  of  his  Shortest  Way  with  the 
Dissenters.  The  laugh  of  the  populace  was  then  on  De- 
foe's side,  partly,  perhaps,  because  the  Government  had 
prosecuted  Mm.  But  in  the  changes  of  the  troubled 
times,  the  Oxford  Doctor,  nurtured  in  "  the  scolding  of 
the  ancients,"  had  found  a  more  favourable  opportunity. 
His  literary  skill  was  of  the  most  mechanical  kind ;  but  at 
the  close  of  1709,  when  hopes  of  peace  had  been  raised 
only  to  be  disappointed,  and  the  country  was  suffering 
from  the  distress  of  a  prolonged  war,  people  were  more  in 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  81 

a  mood  to  listen  to  a  preacher  who  disdained  to  check  the 
sweep  of  his  rhetoric  by  qualifications  or  abatements,  and 
luxuriated  in  denouncing  the  Queen's  Ministers  from  the 
pulpit  under  scriptural  allegories.  He  delivered  a  tremen- 
dous philippic  about  the  Perils  of  False  Bretliren,  as  a  ser- 
mon before  the  Lord  Mayor  in  November.  It  would  have 
been  a  wise  thing  for  the  Ministry  to  have  left  SachcvercU 
to  be  dealt  with  by  their  supporters  in  the  press  and  in 
the  pulpit.  But  in  an  evil  hour  Godolphin,  stung  by  a 
nickname  thrown  at  him  by  the  rhetorical  priest — a  singu- 
larly comfortable-looking  man  to  have  so  virulent  a  tongue, 
one  of  those  orators  who  thrive  on  ill-conditioned  language 
— resolved,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  more  judicious  col- 
leagues, to  have  him  impeached  by  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. The  Commons  readily  voted  the  sermon  seditious, 
scandalous,  and  malicious,  and  agreed  to  a  resolution  for 
his  impeachment ;  the  Lords  ordered  that  the  case  should 
be  heard  at  their  bar ;  and  Westminster  Hall  was  prepared 
to  be  the  scene  of  a  great  public  trial.  At  first  Defoe,  in 
heaping  contemptuous  ridicule  upon  the  High-flying  Doc- 
tor, had  spoken  as  if  he  would  consider  prosecution  a  blun- 
der. The  man  ought  rather  to  be  encouraged  to  go  on 
exposing  himself  and  his  party.  "  Let  him  go  on,"  he 
said,  "  to  bully  Moderation,  explode  Toleration,  and  damn 
the  Union ;  the  gain  will  be  ours." 

"  You  should  use  him  as  we  do  a  hot  horse.  When  he 
first  frets  and  pulls,  keep  a  stiff  rein  and  hold  him  in  if  you 
can ;  but  if  he  grows  mad  and  furious,  slack  your  hand,  clap 
your  heels  to  him,  and  let  him  go.  Give  him  his  belly  full 
of  it.  Away  goes  the  beast  like  a  fury  over  hedge  and  ditch, 
till  he  rims  himself  off  his  mettle ;  perhaps  bogs  himself,  and 
then  he  grows  quiet  of  course.  .  .  .  Besides,  good  people,  do 
you  not  know  the  nature  of  the  barking  creatures  ?    If  you 


82  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap, 

pass  but  by,  and  take  no  notice,  they  will  yelp  and  make  a 
noise,  and  perhaps  run  a  little  after  you ;  but  turn  back,  oflFer 
to  strike  them  or  throw  stones  at  them,  and  you'll  never  have 
done — nay,  you'll  raise  all  the  dogs  of  the  parish  upon  you." 

This  last  was  precisely  what  the  Government  did,  and 
they  found  reason  to  regret  that  they  did  not  take  Defoe's 
advice  and  let  Sacheverell  alone.  When,  however,  they 
did  resolve  to  prosecute  him,  Defoe  immediately  turned 
round,  and  exulted  in  the  prosecution,  as  the  very  thing 
which  he  had  foreseen.  "  Was  not  the  Revieiv  right  when 
he  said  you  ought  to  let  such  people  run  on  till  they 
were  out  of  breath  ?  Did  I  not  note  to  you  that  precipi- 
tations have  always  ruined  them  and  served  us  ?  .  .  .  Not 
a  hound  in  the  pack  opened  like  him.  He  has  done  the 
work  effectually.  .  .  .  He  has  raised  the  house  and  waked 
the  landlady.  .  .  .  Thank  him,  good  people,  thank  him 
and  clap  him  on  the  back ;  let  all  his  party  do  but  this, 
and  the  day  is  our  own."  Nor  did  Defoe  omit  to  remind 
the  good  people  that  he  had  been  put  in  the  pillory  for 
satirically  hinting  that  the  High-Church  favored  such  doc- 
trines as  Sacheverell  was  now  prosecuted  for.  In  his 
Hymn  to  the  Pillory  he  had  declared  that  Sacheverell 
ought  to  stand  there  in  his  place.  His  wish  was  now  grat- 
ified; "the  bar  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  the  worst 
pillory  in  the  nation."  In  the  two  months  which  elapsed 
before  the  trial,  during  which  the  excitement  was  steadily 
growing,  Sacheverell  and  his  doctrines  were  the  main  topic 
of  the  Review.  If  a  popular  tempest  could  have  been  al- 
layed by  brilliant  argument,  Defoe's  papers  ought  to  have 
done  it.  He  was  a  manly  antagonist,  and  did  not  imitate 
coarser  pamphleteers  in  raking  up  scandals  about  the  Doc- 
tor's private  life — at  least  not  under  his  own  name.  There 
was  indeed,  a  pamphlet  issued  by  "  a  Gentleman  of  Ox- 


VI.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  83 

ford,"  which  bears  many  marks  of  Dcfoii's  nnthorship,  and 
contains  an  account  of  some  passages  in  SachevereH's  life 
not  at  all  to  the  clergyman's  credit.  But  the  only  pam- 
phlet outside  the  Review  which  the  biographers  have  as- 
cribed to  Defoe's  activity,  is  a  humorous  Letter  from  the 
Pope  to  Don  SachevercUio,  giving  him  instructions  how  to 
advance  the  interest  of  the  Pretender.  In  the  Review  De- 
foe, treating  Sacheverell  with  riotously  mirthful  contempt, 
calls  for  the  punishment  of  the  doctrines  rather  than  the 
man.  During  the  trial,  which  lasted  more  than  a  fort- 
night, a  mob  attended  the  Doctor's  carriage  every  day 
from  his  lodgings  in  the  Temple  to  Westminster  Hall,  huz- 
zaing, and  pressing  to  kiss  his  hand,  and  spout  the  even- 
ings in  rabbling  the  Dissenters'  meeting-houses,  and  hoot- 
ing before  the  residences  of  prominent  Whigs.  Defoe 
had  always  said  that  the  High-fliers  would  use  violence 
to  their  opponents  if  they  had  the  power,  and  here  was  a 
confirmation  of  his  opinion  on  which  he  did  not  fail  to 
insist.  The  sentence  on  Sacheverell,  that  his  sermon  and 
vindication  should  be  burnt  by  the  common  hangman  and 
himself  suspended  from  preaching  for  three  years,  was 
hailed  by  the  mob  as  an  acquittal,  and  celebrated  by  tu- 
multuous gatherings  and  bonfires,  Defoe  reasoned  hard 
and  joyfully  to  prove  that  the  penalty  was  everything  that 
could  be  wished,  and  exactly  what  he  had  all  along  advised 
and  contemplated,  but  he  did  not  succeed  in  persuading 
the  masses  that  the  Government  had  not  suffered  a  defeat. 
The  impeachment  of  Sacheverell  turned  popular  feeling 
violently  against  the  Whigs,  The  break  up  of  the  Ger- 
truydenberg  Conference  without  peace  gave  a  strong  push 
in  the  same  direction.  It  was  all  due,  the  Tories  shouted, 
and  the  people  were  now  willing  to  believe,  to  the  folly  of 
our  Government  in  insisting  upon  impossible  conditions 


84  DANIEL  DEFOE.  ];chap. 

from  the  French  King,  and  their  shameless  want  of  patri- 
otism in  consulting  the  interests  of  the  Allies  rather  than 
of  England.  The  Queen,  who  for  some  time  had  been 
longing  to  get  rid  of  her  Whig  Ministers,  did  not  at  once 
set  sail  with  this  breeze.  She  dismissed  the  Earl  of  Sun- 
derland in  June,  and  sent  word  to  her  allies  that  she  meant 
to  make  no  further  changes.  Their  ambassadors,  with 
what  was  even  then  resented  as  an  impertinence,  congratu- 
lated her  on  this  resolution,  and  then  in  August  she  took 
the  momentous  step  of  dismissing  Godolphin,  and  putting 
the  Treasury  nominally  in  commission,  but  really  under 
the  management  of  Harley.  For  a  few  weeks  it  seems  to 
have  been  Harley's  wish  to  conduct  the  administration  in 
concert  with  the  remaining  Whig  members,  but  the  ex- 
treme Tories,  with  whom  he  had  been  acting,  overbore  his 
moderate  intentions.  They  threatened  to  desert  him  un- 
less he  broke  clearly  and  definitely  with  the  Whigs.  In 
October  accordingly  the  Whigs  were  all  turned  out  of  the 
Administration,  Tories  put  in  their  places.  Parliament  dis- 
solved, and  writs  issued  for  new  elections.  "So  sudden 
and  entire  a  change  of  the  Ministry,"  Bishop  Burnet  re- 
marks, "  is  scarce  to  be  found  in  our  history,  especially 
where  men  of  great  abilities  had  served  both  wdth  zeal  and 
success."  That  the  Queen  should  dismiss  one  or  all  of  her 
Ministers  in  the  face  of  a  Parliamentary  majority  excited 
no  surprise ;  but  that  the  whole  Administration  should  be 
changed  at  a  stroke  from  one  party  to  the  other  was  a  new 
and  strange  thing.  The  old  Earl  of  Sunderland's  suggest- 
ion to  William  III.  had  not  taken  root  in  constitutional 
practice ;  this  was  the  fulfilment  of  it  under  the  gradual 
pressure  of  circumstances. 

Defoe's  conduct  while  the  political  balance  was  rocking, 
and  after  the  Whig  side  had  decisively  kicked  the  beam, 


VI.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  85 

is  a  curious  study.  One  hardly  knows  which  to  admire 
most,  the  loyalty  with  which  he  stuck  to  the  falling  house 
till  the  moment  of  its  collapse,  or  the  adroitness  with  which 
he  escaped  from  the  ruins.  Censure  of  his  shiftiness  is 
partly  disarmed  by  the  fact  that  there  were  so  many  in 
that  troubled  and  uncertain  time  who  would  have  acted 
like  him  if  they  had  had  the  skill.  Besides,  he  acted  so 
steadily  and  with  such  sleepless  vigilance  and  energy  on 
the  principle  that  the  appearance  of  honesty  is  the  best 
policy,  that  at  this  distance  of  time  it  is  not  easy  to  catch 
him  tripping,  and  if  we  refuse  to  be  guided  by  the  opinion 
of  his  contemporaries,  we  almost  inevitably  fall  victims  to 
his  incomparable  plausibility.  Deviations  in  his  political 
writings  from  the  course  of  the  honest  patriot  are  almost 
as  difficult  to  detect  as  flaws  in  the  verisimilitude  of  Rob- 
inson Crusoe  or  the  Journal  of  the  Plague. 

During  the  two  months'  interval  between  the  substitu- 
tion of  Dartmouth  for  Sunderland  and  the  fall  of  Godol- 
phin,  Defoe  used  all  his  powers  of  eloquence  and  argument 
to  avert  the  threatened  changes  in  the  Ministry,  and  keep 
the  Tories  out.  He  had  a  personal  motive  for  this,  he 
confessed.  "  My  own  share  in  the  ravages  they  shall  make 
upon  our  liberties  is  like  to  be  as  severe  as  any  man's,  from 
the  rage  and  fury  of  a  party  who  are  in  themselves  implaca- 
ble, and  whom  God  has  not  been  pleased  to  bless  me  with 
a  talent  to  flatter  and  submit  to."  Of  the  dismissed  minis- 
ter Sunderland,  with  whom  Defoe  had  been  in  personal  re- 
lations during  the  negotiations  for  the  Union,  he  spoke  in 
terms  of  the  warmest  praise,  always  with  a  formal  profes- 
sion of  not  challenging  the  Queen's  judgment  in  discharg- 
ing her  servant.  "  My  Lord  Sunderland,"  he  said,  "  leaves 
the  Ministry  with  the  most  unblemished  character  that  ever 
I  read  of  any  statesman  in  the  world."     "  I  am  making  no 


86  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap, 

court  to  my  Lord  Sunderland.  The  unpolished  author  of 
this  paper  never  had  the  talent  of  making  his  court  to  the 
great  men  of  the  age."  But  where  is  the  objection  against 
his  conduct?  Not  a  dog  of  the  party  can  bark  against  him. 
"  They  cannot  show  me  a  man  of  their  party  that  ever  did 
act  like  him,  or  of  whom  they  can  say  we  should  believe 
he  would  if  he  had  the  opportunity."  The  Tories  wei-e 
clamouring  for  the  dismissal  of  all  the  other  Whigs.  High- 
Church  addresses  to  the  Queen  were  pouring  in,  claiming 
to  represent  the  sense  of  the  nation,  and  hinting  an  abso- 
lute want  of  confidence  in  the  Administration.  Defoe  ex- 
amined the  conduct  of  the  ministers  severally  and  collect- 
ively, and  demanded  where  was  the  charge  against  them, 
where  the  complaint,  where  the  treasure  misapplied  ? 

As  for  the  sense  of  the  nation,  there  was  one  sure  way 
of  testing  this  better  than  any  got-up  addresses,  namely, 
the  rise  or  fall  of  the  public  credit.  The  public  stocks  fell 
immediately  on  the  news  of  Sunderland's  dismissal,  and 
were  only  partially  revived  upon  Her  Majesty's  assurauce 
to  the  Directors  of  the  Bank  that  she  meant  to  keep  the 
Ministry  otherwise  unchanged.  A  rumour  that  Parliament 
was  to  be  dissolved  had  sent  them  down  again.  If  the 
public  credit  is  thus  afifected  by  the  mere  apprehension  of 
a  turn  of  affairs  in  England,  Defoe  said,  the  thing  itself 
will  be  a  fatal  blow  to  it.  The  coy  Lady  Credit  had  been 
wavering  in  her  attachment  to  England ;  any  sudden  change 
would  fright  her  away  altogether.  As  for  the  pooh-pooh 
cry  of  the  Tories  that  the  national  credit  was  of  no  conse- 
quence, that  a  nation  could  not  be  in  debt  to  itself,  and 
that  their  moneyed  men  would  come  forward  with  nine- 
teen shillings  in  the  pound  for  the  support  of  the  war, 
Defoe  treated  this  claptrap  with  proper  ridicule. 

But  in  spite  of  all  Defoe's  efforts,  the  crash  came.     On 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  ?? 

the  lOtli  of  August  the  Queen  scut  to  Godolphin  for  tho 
Treasurer's  staff,  and  Harley  became  her  Prime  Minister. 
How  did  Defoe  behave  then  ?  The  first  two  numbers  of 
the  Review  after  the  Lord  Treasurer's  fall  are  among  the 
most  masterly  of  his  writings.  He  was  not  a  small,  mean, 
timid  time-server  and  turncoat.  He  faced  about  with  bold 
and  steady  caution,  on  the  alert  to  give  the  lie  to  anybody 
who  dared  to  accuse  him  of  facing  about  at  all.  He  frank- 
ly admitted  that  he  was  in  a  quandary  what  to  say  about 
the  change  that  had  taken  place.  "  If  a  man  could  bo 
found  that  could  sail  north  and  south,  that  could  speak 
truth  and  falsehood,  that  could  turn  to  the  right  hand  and 
the  left,  all  at  the  same  time,  he  would  be  the  man,  he 
would  be  the  only  proper  person  that  should  now  speak." 
Of  one  thing  only  he  was  certain.  "  We  are  sure  honest 
men  go  out."  As  for  their  successors,  "  it  is  our  business 
to  hope,  and  time  must  answer  for  those  that  come  in.  If 
Tories,  if  Jacobites,  if  High-fliers,  if  madmen  of  any  kind 
are  to  come  in,  I  am  against  them ;  I  ask  them  no  favour, 
I  make  no  court  to  them,  nor  am  I  going  about  to  please 
them."  But  the  question  was,  what  was  to  be  done  in  the 
circumstances?  Defoe  stated  plainly  two  courses,  with 
their  respective  dangers.  To  cry  out  about  the  new  Min- 
istry was  to  ruin  public  credit.  To  profess  cheerfulness 
was  to  encourage  the  change  and  strengthen  the  hands  of 
those  that  desired  to  push  it  farther.  On  the  whole,  for 
himself  he  considered  the  first  danger  the  most  to  be  dread- 
ed of  the  two.  Therefore  he  announced  his  intention  of 
devoting  his  whole  energy  to  maintainmg  the  public  cred- 
it, and  advised  all  true  Whigs  to  do  likewise.  "  Though  I 
don't  like  the  crew,  I  won't  sink  the  ship.  I'll  do  my  best 
to  save  the  ship.  I'll  pump  and  heave  and  haul,  and  do 
anything  I  can,  though  he  that  pulls  with  me  were  my  en- 


88  DAXIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

emy.     The  reason  is  plain.     We  are  all  in  the  sliip,  and 
must  sink  or  swim  together." 

What  could  be  more  plausible?  What  conduct  more 
truly  patriotic  ?  Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  fault 
with  Defoe's  behadour,  were  it  not  for  the  rogue's  protes- 
tations of  inability  to  court  the  favour  of  great  men,  and  his 
own  subsequent  confessions  in  his  Ajjpeal  to  Honour  and 
Justice,  as  to  what  took  place  behind  the  scenes.  Imme- 
diately on  the  turn  of  affairs  he  took  steps  to  secure  that 
connexion  with  the  Government,  the  existence  of  which  he 
was  always  denying.  The  day  after  Godolphin's  displace- 
ment, he  tells  us,  he  waited  on  him,  and  "  humbly  asked 
his  lordship's  direction  what  course  he  should  take."  Go- 
dolphin  at  once  assured  him,  in  very  much  the  same  words 
that  Harley  had  used  before,  that  the  change  need  make 
no  difference  to  him ;  he  was  the  Queen's  servant,  and  all 
that  had  been  done  for  him  was  by  Her  Majesty's  special 
and  particular  direction ;  his  business  was  to  wait  till  he 
saw  things  settled,  and  then  apply  himself  to  the  Ministers 
of  State  to  receive  Her  Majesty's  commands  from  them. 
Thereupon  Defoe  resolved  to  guide  himself  by  the  follow- 
ing principle : — 

"  It  occurred  to  me  immediately,  as  a  principle  for  my  con- 
duct, that  it  was  not  material  to  me  what  ministers  Her  Maj- 
esty was  pleased  to  employ ;  my  duty  was  to  go  along  with 
every  Ministry,  so  far  as  they  did  not  break  in  upon  the  Con- 
stitution, and  the  laws  and  liberties  of  my  country;  my  part 
being  only  the  duty  of  a  subject,  viz.,  to  submit  to  all  lawful 
commands,  and  to  enter  into  no  service  which  was  not  justi- 
fiable by  the  laws ;  to  all  which  I  have  exactly  obliged  my- 
self." 

Defoe  was  thus,  as  he  says,  providentially  cast  back  upon 
his  original  benefactor.     That  he  received  any  considerar 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  89 

tion,  pension,  gratification,  or  reward  for  his  services  to 
Harley,  "  except  that  old  appointment  which  Her  Majesty 
was  pleased  to  make  him,"  he  strenuously  denied.  The 
denial  is  possibly  true,  and  it  is  extremely  probable  that  ho 
was  within  the  truth  when  he  protested  in  the  most  solemn 
manner  that  he  had  never  "  received  any  instructions,  di- 
rections, orders,  or  let  them  call  it  what  they  will,  of  that 
kind,  for  the  writing  of  any  part  of  what  he  had  written, 
or  any  materials  for  the  putting  together,  for  the  forming 
any  book  or  pamphlet  whatsoever,  from  the  said  Earl  of 
Oxford,  late  Lord  Treasurer,  or  from  any  person  by  his 
order  or  direction,  since  the  time  that  the  late  Earl  of  Go- 
dolphin  was  Lord  Treasurer."  Defoe  declared  that  "  in  all 
his  writing,  he  ever  capitulated  for  his  liberty  to  speak  ac- 
cording to  his  own  judgment  of  things,"  and  we  may  easily 
believe  him.  He  was  much  too  clever  a  servant  to  need 
instructions. 

His  secret  services  to  Harley  in  the  new  elections  are 
probably  buried  in  oblivion.  In  the  Review  he  pursued 
a  strain  which  to  the  reader  who  does  not  take  his  articles 
in  connexion  with  the  politics  of  the  time,  might  appear 
to  be  thoroughly  consistent  with  his  advice  to  the  electors 
on  previous  occasions.  He  meant  to  confine  himself,  he 
said  at  starting,  rather  to  the  manner  of  choosing  than  to 
the  persons  to  be  chosen,  and  he  never  denounced  bribery, 
intimidation,  rioting,  rabbling,  and  every  form  of  interfer- 
ence with  the  electors'  freedom  of  choice,  in  more  ener- 
getic language.  As  regarded  the  persons  to  be  chosen, 
his  advice  was  as  before,  to  choose  moderate  men — men  of 
sense  and  temper,  not  men  of  fire  and  fury.  But  he  no 
longer  asserted,  as  he  had  done  before,  the  exclusive  pos- 
session of  good  qualities  by  the  Whigs.  He  now  recog- 
nised that  there  were  hot  Whigs  as  well  as  moderate 
G  B 


DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

>ries  as  well  as  hot  Tories.  It  was 
for  the  nation  to  avoid  both  extremes  and  rally  round 
the  men  of  moderation,  whether  Whig  or  Tory.  "  If  we 
have  a  Tory  High-flying  Parliament,  we  Tories  are  un- 
done. If  we  have  a  hot  Whig  Parliament,  we  Whigs  are 
undone." 

The  terms  of  Defoe's  advice  were  unexceptionable,  but 
the  AVhigs  perceived  a  change  from  the  time  when  he  de- 
clared that  if  ever  we  have  a  Tory  Parliament  the  nation 
is  undone.  It  was  as  if  a  Republican  writer,  after  the 
coup  cfetat  of  the  16th  May,  1877,  had  warned  the  French 
against  electing  extreme  Republicans,  and  had  echoed  the 
Marshal-President's  advice  to  give  their  votes  to  moderate 
men  of  all  parties.  Defoe  did  not  increase  the  conviction 
of  his  party  loyalty  when  a  Tory  Parliament  was  returned, 
by  trying  to  prove  that  whatever  the  new  members  might 
call  themselves,  they  must  inevitably  be  Whigs.  He  ad- 
mitted in  the  most  unqualified  way  that  the  elections  had 
been  disgracefully  riotous  and  disorderly,  and  lectured  the 
constituencies  freely  on  their  conduct.  "  It  is  not,"  he 
said,  "a  Free  Parliament  that  you  have  chosen.  You  have 
met,  mobbed,  rabbled,  and  thrown  dirt  at  one  another,  but 
election  by  mob  is  no  more  free  election  than  Oliver's  elec- 
tion by  a  standing  army.  Parliaments  and  rabbles  are 
contrary  things."  Yet  he  had  hopes  of  the  gentlemen 
who  had  been  thus  chosen. 

"  I  have  it  upon  many  good  grounds,  as  I  think  I  told  you, 
that  there  are  some  people  who  are  shortly  to  come  together, 
of  whose  character,  let  the  people  that  send  them  up  think 
what  they  will,  when  thej'  come  thither  they  will  not  run  the 
mad  length  that  is  expected  of  them ;  they  will  act  upon  the 
Revolution  principle,  keep  within  the  circle  of  the  law,  pro- 
ceed with  temper,  moderation,  and  justice,  to  support  the 


vi.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  91 

same  interest  we  have  all  carried  on — and  this  I  call  being 
Whiggish,  or  acting  as  Whigs. 

"  I  shall  not  trouble  you  with  further  examining  why  they 
will  be  so,  or  why  they  will  act  thus ;  I  think  it  is  so  plain 
from  the  necessity  of  the  Constitution  and  the  circumstances 
of  things  before  them,  that  it  needs  no  further  demonstration 
—they  will  be  "Whigs,  they  must  be  Whigs ;  there  is  no  rem- 
edy, for  the  Constitution  is  a  Whig." 

The  new  membors  of  Parliament  must  cither  be  Whigs  or 
traitors,  for  everybody  who  favours  the  Protestant  succes- 
sion is  a  Whig,  and  everybody  who  does  not  is  a  traitor. 
Defoe  used  the  same  ingenuity  in  playing  upon  words  in 
his  arguments  in  support  of  the  public  credit.  Every  true 
Whig,  he  argued,  in  the  Review  and  in  separate  essays,  was 
bound  to  uphold  the  public  credit,  for  to  permit  it  to  be 
impaired  was  the  surest  way  to  let  in  the  Pretender.  The 
Whigs  were  accused  of  withdrawing  their  money  from  the 
public  stocks,  to  mark  their  distrust  of  the  Government. 
"  Nonsense !"  Defoe  said,  "  in  that  case  they  would  not  be 
Whigs."  Naturally  enough,  as  the  Review  now  practically 
supported  a  Ministry  in  which  extreme  Tories  had  the  pre- 
dominance, he  was  upbraided  for  having  gone  over  to  that 
party.  "  Why,  gentlemen,"  he  retorted,  "  it  would  be  more 
natural  for  you  to  think  I  am  turned  Turk  than  High-flier; 
and  to  make  me  a  Mahometan  would  not  be  half  so  ridicu- 
lous as  to  make  me  say  the  Whigs  are  running  down  cred- 
it, when,  on  the  contrary,  I  am  still  satisfied  if  there  were 
no  Whigs  at  this  time,  there  would  hardly  be  any  such 
thing  as  credit  left  among  us."  "  If  the  credit  of  the  na- 
tion is  to  be  maintained,  we  must  all  act  as  "VMiigs,  because 
credit  can  be  maintained  upon  no  other  foot.  Had  the 
doctrine  of  non-resistance  of  tyranny  been  voted,  had  the 
Prerogative  been  exalted  above  the  Law,  and  property  sub- 


92  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

jected  to  absolute  will,  would  Parliament  tave  voted  the 
funds  ?  Credit  supposes  Whigs  lending  and  a  "WTiig  Gov- 
ernment borrowing.  It  is  nonsense  to  talk  of  credit  and 
passive  submission." 

Had  Defoe  confined  himself  to  lecturing  those  hot 
Whigs  who  were  so  afraid  of  the  secret  Jacobitism  of 
Harley's  colleagues  that  they  were  tempted  to  withdraw 
their  money  from  the  public  stocks,  posterity,  unable  to 
judge  how  far  these  fears  were  justified,  and  how  far  it 
was  due  to  a  happy  accident  that  they  were  not  realized, 
might  have  given  him  credit  for  sacrificing  partisanship  to 
patriotism.  This  plea  could  hardly  be  used  for  another 
matter  in  which,  with  every  show  of  reasonable  fairness, 
he  gave  a  virtual  support  to  the  Ministry.  We  have  seen 
how  he  spoke  of  Marlborough,  and  Godolphin's  manage- 
ment of  the  army  and  the  finances  when  the  Whigs  were 
in  oflSce.  When  the  Tories  came  in,  they  at  once  set 
about  redeeming  their  pledges  to  inquire  into  the  malver- 
sation of  their  predecessors.  Concerning  this  proceed- 
ing, Defoe  spoke  with  an  approval  which,  though  neces- 
sarily guarded  in  view  of  his  former  professions  of  ex- 
treme satisfaction,  was  none  the  less  calculated  to  recom- 
mend. 

"Inquiry  into  miscarriages  in  things  so  famous  and  so 
fatal  as  war  and  battle  is  a  thing  so  popular  that  no  man 
can  argue  against  it ;  and  had  we  paid  well,  and  hanged 
well,  much  sooner,  as  some  men  had  not  been  less  in  a  con- 
dition to  mistake,  so  some  others  might  not  have  been  here 
to  find  fault.  But  it  is  better  late  than  never ;  when  the  in- 
quiry is  set  about  heartily,  it  may  be  useful  on  several  ac- 
counts, both  to  unravel  past  errors  and  to  prevent  new.  For 
my  part,  as  we  have  for  many  years  past  groaned  for  want 
of  justice  upon  wilful  mistakes,  yet,  in  hopes  some  of  the  care- 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  9« 

ful  and  mischievous  designing  gentlemen  may  come  in  for  a 
share,  I  am  glad  the  work  is  begun." 


With  equal  good  humour  and  skill  in  leaving  open  a 
double  interpretation,  he  commented  on  the  fact  that  the 
new  Parliament  did  not,  as  had  been  customary,  give  a 
formal  vote  of  thanks  to  Marlborough  for  his  conduct  of 
his  last  campaign. 

"  We  have  had  a  mighty  pother  here  in  print  about  re- 
warding of  generals.  Some  think  great  men  too  much  re- 
warded, and  some  think  them  too  little  rewarded.  The  case 
is  so  nice,  neither  side  will  bear  me  to  speak  my  mind ;  but 
I  am  persuaded  of  this,  that  there  is  no  general  has  or  ever 
will  merit  great  things  of  us,  but  be  has  received  and  will 
receive  all  the  grateful  acknowledgments  he  ought  to  ex- 
pect." 

But  his  readers  would  complain  that  he  had  not  defined 
the  word  "  ought."  That,  he  said,  with  audacious  pleas- 
antry, he  left  to  them.  And  while  they  were  on  the  sub- 
ject of  mismanagement,  he  would  give  them  a  word  of 
advice  which  he  had  often  given  them  before.  "While 
you  bite  and  devour  one  another,  you  are  all  mismanagers. 
Put  an  end  to  your  factions,  your  tumults,  your  rabbles, 
or  you  will  not  be  able  to  make  war  upon  anybody." 
Previously,  however,  his  way  of  making  peace  at  home 
was  to  denounce  the  High-fliers.  He  was  still  pursuing 
the  same  object,  though  by  a  different  course,  now  that 
the  leaders  of  the  High-fliers  were  in  office,  when  he  de- 
clared that  "  those  Whigs  who  say  that  the  new  Ministry 
is  entirely  composed  of  Tories  and  High-fliers  arc  fool- 
Whigs."  The  remark  was  no  doubt  perfectly  true,  but 
yet  if  Defoe  had  been  thoroughly  consistent  he  ought  at 


94  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

least,  instead  of  supporting  the  Ministry  on  account  of  the 
small  moderate  element  it  contained,  to  have  urged  its 
purification  from  dangerous  ingredients. 

This,  however,  it  must  be  admitted,  he  also  did,  though 
indirectly  and  at  a  somewhat  later  stage,  when  Harley's 
tenure  of  the  Premiership  was  menaced  by  High-fliers  who 
thought  him  much  too  lukewarm  a  leader.  A  "  cave,"  the 
famous  October  Club,  was  formed  in  the  autumn  of  1711, 
to  urge  more  extreme  measures  upon  the  ministry  against 
Whig  oflacials,  and  to  organize  a  High-Church  agitation 
throughout  the  country.  It  consisted  chiefly  of  country 
squires,  who  wished  to  see  members  of  the  late  Ministry 
impeached,  and  the  Duke  of  Mai-lborough  dismissed  from 
the  command  of  the  army.  At  Harley's  instigation  Swift 
wrote  an  "  advice  "  to  these  hot  partisans,  beseeching  them 
to  have  patience  and  trust  the  Ministry,  and  everything 
that  they  wished  would  happen  in  due  time.  Defoe 
sought  to  break  their  ranks  by  a  direct  onslaught  in  his 
most  vigorous  style,  denouncing  them  in  the  Review  as 
Jacobites  in  disguise  and  an  illicit  importation  from  France, 
and  writing  their  "  secret  history,"  "  with  some  friendly 
characters  of  the  illustrious  members  of  that  honourable 
society  "  in  two  separate  tracts.  This  skirmish  served  the 
double  purpose  of  strengthening  Harley  against  the  reck- 
less zealots  of  his  party,  and  keeping  lap  Defoe's  appear- 
ance of  impartiality.  Throughout  the  fierce  struggle  of 
parties,  never  so  intense  in  any  period  of  our  history  as 
during  those  years  when  the  Constitution  itself  hung  in 
the  balance,  it  was  as  a  True-born  Englishman  first  and  a 
Whig  and  Dissenter  afterwards,  that  Defoe  gave  his  sup- 
port to  the  Tory  Ministry.  It  may  not  have  been  his 
fault;  he  may  have  been  most  unjustly  suspected;  but 
nobody  at  the  time  would  believe  his  protestations  of  in- 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  95 

dependence.  When  his  fonner  High-flying  persecutor, 
the  Earl  of  Nottingham,  went  over  to  the  Whigs,  and  with 
their  acquiescence,  or  at  least  without  their  active  opposi- 
tion, introduced  another  Bill  to  put  down  Occasional  Con- 
formity, Defoe  wrote  trenchantly  against  it.  But  even 
then  the  Dissenters,  as  he  loudly  lamented,  repudiated  his 
alliance.  The  AVhigs  were  not  so  much  pleased  on  this 
occasion  with  his  denunciations  of  the  persecuting  spirit 
of  the  High  -  Churchmen,  as  they  were  enraged  by  his 
stinging  taunts  levelled  at  themselves  for  abandoning  the 
Dissenters  to  their  persecutors.  The  Dissenters  must  now 
see,  Defoe  said,  that  they  would  not  be  any  better  off  un- 
der a  Low-Church  ministry  than  under  a  High-Church 
ministry.  But  the  Dissenters,  considering  that  the  Whigs 
were  too  much  in  a  minority  to  prevent  the  passing  of  the 
Bill,  however  willing  to  do  so,  would  only  see  in  their  pro- 
fessed champion  an  artful  supporter  of  the  men  in  power. 
A  curious  instance  has  been  preserved  of  the  estimate 
of  Defoe's  character  at  this  time.'  M.  Mesnager,  an  agent 
sent  by  the  French  King  to  sound  the  Ministry  and  the 
country  as  to  terms  of  peace,  wanted  an  able  pamphleteer 
to  promote  the  French  interest.  The  Swedish  Resident 
recommended  Defoe,  who  had  just  issued  a  tract,  entitled 
Reasons  why  this  Nation  ought  to  put  an  end  to  this  ex- 
pensive War.  Mesnager  was  delighted  with  the  tract,  at 
once  had  it  translated  into  French  and  circulated  through 
the  Netherlands,  employed  the  Swede  to  treat  with  Defoe, 
and  sent  him  a  hundred  pistoles  by  way  of  earnest.  De- 
foe kept  the  pistoles,  but  told  the  Queen,  M.  Mesnager  re- 
cording that  though  "  he  missed  his  aim  in  this  person, 

•  I  doubt  whether  it  adds  to  the  credibility  of  the  story  in  all 
points  that  the  minutes  of  M.  Mesnager's  Negotiations  were  "  trans- 
lated," and  probably  composed  by  Defoe  himself.    See  p.  136. 


96  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

the  money  perhaps  was  not  wholly  lost ;  for  I  afterwards 
understood  that  the  man  -v^as  in  the  service  of  the  state, 
and  that  he  had  let  the  Queen  know  of  the  hundred  pis- 
toles he  had  received ;  so  I  was  obliged  to  sit  stUl,  and  be 
very  well  satisfied  that  I  had  not  discovered  myself  to 
him,  for  it  was  not  our  season  yet."  The  anecdote  at  once 
shows  the  general  opinion  entertained  of  Defoe,  and  the 
fact  that  he  was  less  corruptible  than  was  supposed. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  our  astute  intriguer  would 
have  outwitted  the  French  emissary  if  he  had  not  been 
warned  in  time,  pocketed  his  bribes,  and  wormed  his  se- 
crets out  of  him  for  the  information  of  the  Government. 

During  Godolphiu's  Ministry,  Defoe's  cue  had  been  to 
reason  with  the  nation  against  too  impatient  a  longing  for 
peace.  Let  us  have  peace  by  all  means,  had  been  his  text, 
but  not  till  honourable  terms  have  been  secured,  and  mean- 
time the  war  is  going  on  as  prosperously  as  any  but  mad- 
men can  desire.  He  repeatedly  challenged  adversaries 
who  compared  what  he  wrote  then  with  what  he  wrote 
under  the  new  Ministry,  to  prove  him  guilty  of  inconsist- 
ency. He  stood  on  safe  ground  when  he  made  this  chal- 
lenge, for  circumstances  had  changed  sufficiently  to  justify 
any  change  of  opinion.  The  plans  of  the  Confederates 
were  disaiTanged  by  the  death  of  the  Emperor,  and  the 
accession  of  his  brother,  the  Archduke  Charles,  to  the  va- 
cant crown.  To  give  the  crown  of  Spain  in  these  new 
circumstances  to  the  Archduke,  as  had  been  the  object  of 
the  Allies  when  they  began  the  war,  would  have  been  as 
dangerous  to  the  balance  of  power  as  to  let  Spain  pass  to 
Louis's  grandson,  Philip  of  Anjou.  It  would  be  more 
dangerous,  Defoe  argued  ;  and  by  far  the  safest  course 
would  be  to  give  Spain  to  Philip  and  his  posterity,  who 
"  would  be  as  much  Spaniards  in  a  very  short  time,  as 


^i]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  ^1 

ever  Philip  II.  was  or  any  of  his  other  predecessors." 
This  was  the  main  argument  which  had  been  used  in  the 
latter  days  of  King  William  against  going  to  war  at  all, 
and  Defoe  had  then  refuted  it  scornfully ;  but  circum- 
stances had  changed,  and  he  not  only  adopted  it,  but  also 
issued  an  essay  "  proving  that  it  was  always  the  sense  both 
of  King  William  and  of  all  the  Confederates,  and  even 
of  the  Grand  Alliance  itself,  that  the  Spanish  monarchy 
should  never  be  united  in  the  person  of  the  Emperor." 
Partition  the  Spanish  dominions  in  Europe  between 
France  and  Germany,  and  the  West  Indies  between  Eng- 
land and  Holland  —  such  was  Defoe's  idea  of  a  proper 
basis  of  peace. 

But  Avhile  Defoe  expounded  in  various  forms  the  condi- 
tions of  a  good  peace,  he  devoted  his  main  energy  to  prov- 
ing that  peace  under  some  conditions  was  a  necessity.  He 
dilated  on  the  enormous  expense  of  the  war,  and  showed 
by  convincing  examples  that  it  was  ruining  the  trade  of 
the  country.  Much  that  he  said  was  perfectly  true,  but  if 
he  had  taken  M.  Mesnager's  bribes  and  loyally  carried  out 
his  instructions,  he  could  not  more  effectually  have  served 
the  French  King's  interests  than  by  writing  as  he  did  at 
that  juncture.  The  proclaimed  necessity  under  which 
England  lay  to  make  peace,  offered  Louis  an  advantage 
which  he  was  not  slow  to  take.  The  proposals  which  he 
made  at  the  Congress  of  Utrecht,  and  which  he  had  ascer- 
tained would  be  accepted  by  the  English  Ministry  and  the 
Queen,  were  not  unjustly  characterised  by  the  indignant 
Whigs  as  being  such  as  he  might  have  made  at  the  close 
of  a  successful  war.  The  territorial  concessions  to  Eng- 
land and  Holland  were  insignificant;  the  States  were  to 
have  the  right  of  garrisoning  certain  barrier  towns  in 
Flanders,  and  England  was  to  have  some  portions  of  Cana- 
34  5* 


98  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

da.  But  there  was  no  mention  of  dividing  the  West  In- 
dies between  tliem — the  West  Indies  were  to  remain  at- 
tached to  Spain.  It  was  the  restoration  of  their  trade 
that  was  their  main  desire  in  these  great  commercial  coun- 
tries, and  even  that  object  Louis  agreed  to  promote  in  a 
manner  that  seemed,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  time,  to 
be  more  to  his  own  advantage  than  to  theirs.  In  the  case 
of  England,  be  was  to  remove  prohibitions  against  our  im- 
ports, and  in  return  we  engaged  to  give  the  French  im- 
ports the  privileges  of  the  most  favoured  nations.  In 
short,  we  were  to  have  free  trade  with  France,  which  the 
commercial  classes  of  the  time  looked  upon  as  a  very 
doubtful  blessing. 

It  is  because  Defoe  wrote  in  favour  of  this  free  trade 
that  he  is  supposed  to  have  been  superior  to  the  commer- 
cial fallacies  of  the  time.  But  a  glance  at  his  arguments 
shows  that  this  is  a  very  hasty  inference.  It  was  no  part 
of  Defoe's  art  as  a  controversialist  to  seek  to  correct  pop- 
ular prejudices;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  his  habit  to  take 
them  for  granted  as  the  bases  of  his  arguments,  to  work 
from  them  as  premisses  towards  his  conclusion.  He  ex- 
pressly avowed  himself  a  prohibitionist  in  principle ; — 

"  I  am  far  from  being  of  their  mind  who  say  that  all  pro- 
hibitions are  destructive  to  trade,  and  that  wise  nations,  the 
Dutch,  make  no  prohibitions  at  all. 

"  Where  any  nation  has,  by  the  singular  blessing  of  God, 
a  produce  given  to  their  country  from  which  such  a  manu- 
facture can  be  made  as  other  nations  cannot  be  without,  and 
none  can  make  that  produce  but  themselves,  it  would  be  dis- 
traction in  that  nation  not  to  prohibit  the  exportation  of 
that  original  produce  till  it  is  manufactured." 

He  had  been  taunted  with  flying  in  the  face  of  what 
he  had  himself  said  in  King  William's  time  in  favour  of 


Ti.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  99 

prohibition.  But  he  boldly  undertakes  to  prove  that  pro- 
hibition was  absolutely  necessary  in  Kinor  William's  time, 
and  not  only  so,  but  that  "  the  advantaoos  wc  may  make 
of  taking  off  a  prohibition  now  are  all  founded  upon  the 
advantages  we  did  make  of  laying  on  a  prohibition  then : 
that  the  same  reason  which  made  a  prohibition  then  the 
best  thing,  makes  it  now  the  maddest  thing  a  nation  could 
do  or  ever  did  in  the  matter  of  trade."  In  King  Wil- 
liam's time,  the  balance  of  trade  was  against  us  to  the  ex- 
tent of  850,000^.,  in  consequence  of  the  French  King's 
laying  extravagant  duties  upon  the  import  of  all  our  wool- 
len manufactures. 

"Whoever  thinks  that  by  opening  the  French  trade  I 
should  mean  .  .  .  that  we  should  come  to  trade  with  them 
850,000?.  per  annum  to  our  loss,  must  think  me  as  mad  as  I 
think  him  for  suggesting  it ;  but  if,  on  the  contrary,  I  prove 
that  as  we  traded  then  850,000^.  a  year  to  our  loss,  we  can 
trade  now  with  them  600,000Z.  to  our  gain,  then  I  will  vent- 
ure to  draw  this  consequence,  that  we  are  distracted,  speak- 
ing of  our  trading  wits,  if  we  do  not  trade  with  them." 

In  a  preface  to  the  Eighth  Volume  of  the  Revie^u  (July 
29,  1V12),  Defoe  announced  his  intention  of  discontinuing 
the  publication,  in  consequence  of  the  tax  then  imposed  on 
newspapers.  We  can  hardly  suppose  that  this  was  his  real 
motive,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  Hevieto,  whose  death 
had  been  announced,  reappeared  in  due  course  in  the  form 
of  a  single  leaf,  and  was  published  in  that  form  till  the 
11th  of  June,  1713.  By  that  time  a  new  project  was  on 
foot  which  Defoe  had  frequently  declared  his  intention  of 
starting,  a  paper  devoted  exclusively  to  the  discussion  of 
the  affairs  of  trade.  The  Revieiv  at  one  time  had  declared 
its  main  subject  to  be  trade,  but  had  claimed  a  liberty  of 


100'  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

digression  under  which  the  main  subject  had  all  but  dis- 
appeared. At  last,  however,  in  May,  1713,  when  popular 
excitement  and  hot  Parliamentary  debates  were  expected 
on  the  Commercial  Treaty  with  France,  an  exclusively 
trading  paper  was  established,  entitled  Mercator.  Defoe 
denied  being  the  author — that  is,  conductor  or  editor  of 
this  paper — and  said  that  he  had  not  power  to  put  what  he 
would  into  it ;  which  may  have  been  literally  true.  Every 
number^  however,  bears  traces  of  his  hand  or  guidance; 
Mercator  is  identical  in  opinions,  style,  and  spirit  with  the 
Review,  differing  only  in  the  greater  openness  of  its  attacks 
upon  the  opposition  of  the  Whigs  to  the  Treaty  of  Com- 
merce. Party  spirit  was  so  violent  that  summer,  after  the 
publication  of  the  terms  of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht,  that 
Defoe  was  probably  glad  to  shelter  himself  under  the  re- 
sponsibility of  another  name ;  he  had  flaunted  the  cloak  of 
impartial  advice  till  it  had  become  a  thing  of  shreds  and 
patches. 

To  prove  that  the  balance  of  trade,  in  spite  of  a  prevail- 
ing impression  to  the  contrary,  not  only  might  be,  but  had 
been,  on  the  side  of  England,  was  the  chief  purpose  of 
Mercator.  The  Whig  Flying  Post  chaffed  Mercator  for 
trying  to  reconcile  impossibilities,  but  Mercator  held 
stoutly  on  with  an  elaborate  apparatus  of  comparative 
tables  of  exports  and  imports,  and  ingenious  schemes  for 
the  development  of  various  branches  of  the  trade  with 
France.  Defoe  was  too  fond  of  carrying  the  war  into  the 
enemy's  country,  to  attack  prohibitions  or  the  received 
doctrine  as  to  the  balance  of  trade  in  principle ;  he  fought 
the  enemy  spiritedly  on  their  own  ground.  "Take  a 
medium  of  three  years  for  above  forty  years  past,  and  cal- 
culate the  exports  and  imports  to  and  from  France,  and  it 
shall  appear  the  balance  of  trade  was  always  on  the  English 


n.]  THE  CHANGE  OF  GOVERNMENT.  101 

side,  to  the  loss  and  disadvantage  of  the  French."  It 
followed,  upon  the  received  commercial  doctrines,  that  the 
French  King  was  making  a  great  concession  in  consenting 
to  take  ofi  high  duties  upon  English  goods.  This  was 
precisely  what  Defoe  was  labouring  to  prove.  "The 
French  King  in  taking  off  the  said  high  duties  ruins  all 
his  own  manufactures."  The  common  belief  was  that  the 
terms  of  peace  would  ruin  English  manufacturing  indus- 
try ;  full  in  the  teeth  of  this,  Defoe,  as  was  his  daring 
custom,  flung  the  paradox  of  the  extreme  opposite.  On 
this  occasion  he  acted  purely  as  a  party  writer.  That  he 
was  never  a  free-trader,  at  least  in  principle,  will  appear 
from  the  following  extract  from  his  Flan  of  the  English 
Commerce,  published  in  1728  : — 

"  Seeing  trade  then  is  the  fund  of  wealth  and  power,  we 
cannot  wonder  that  we  see  the  wisest  Princes  and  States 
anxious  and  concerned  for  the  increase  of  the  commerce  and 
trade  of  their  subjects,  and  of  the  growth  of  the  country ; 
anxious  to  propagate  the  sale  of  such  goods  as  are  the  manu- 
facture of  their  own  subjects,  and  that  employs  their  own 
people ;  especially  of  such  as  keep  the  money  of  their  domin- 
ions at  home ;  and  on  the  contrary,  for  prohibiting  the  im- 
portation from  abroad  of  such  things  as  are  the  product  of 
other  countries,  and  of  the  labour  of  other  people,  or  which 
carry  money  back  in  return,  and  not  merchandise  in  exchange. 

"  Nor  can  we  wonder  that  we  see  such  Princes  and  States 
endeavouring  to  set  up  such  manufactures  in  their  own  coun- 
tries, which  they  see  successfully  and  profitably  carried  on 
by  their  neighbours,  and  to  endeavour  to  procure  the  mate- 
rials proper  for  setting  up  those  manufactures  by  all  just  and 
possible  methods  from  other  countries. 

"  Hence  we  cannot  blame  the  French  or  Germans  for  en- 
deavouring to  get  over  the  British  wool  into  their  hands,  by 
the  help  of  which  they  may  bring  their  people  to  imitate  our 


102  DANTEL  DEFOE.  [chap.  vi. 

manufactures,  which  are  so  esteemed  in  the  world,  as  well 
as  so  gainful  at  home. 

"  Nor  can  we  blame  any  foreign  nation  for  prohibiting  the 
use  and  wearing  of  our  manufactures,  if  they  can  either  make 
them  at  home,  or  make  any  which  they  can  shift  with  in  their 


"  The  reason  is  plain.  'Tis  the  interest  of  every  nation  to 
encourage  their  own  trade,  to  encourage  those  manufactures 
that  will  employ  their  own  subjects,  consume  their  own 
growth  of  provisions,  as  well  as  materials  of  commerce,  and 
such  as  will  keep  their  money  or  species  at  home. 

"'Tis  from  this  just  principle  that  the  French  prohibit  the 
English  woollen  manufacture,  and  the  English  again  prohibit, 
or  impose  a  tax  equal  to  a  prohibition,  on  the  French  silks, 
paper,  linen,  and  several  other  of  their  manufactures.  'Tis 
from  the  same  just  reason  in  trade  that  we  prohibit  the  wear- 
ing of  East  India  wrought  silks,  printed  calicoes,  &c. ;  that 
we  prohibit  the  importation  of  French  brandy,  Brazil  sugars, 
and  Spanish  tobacco ;  and  so  of  several  other  things." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

DIFFICULTIES    IN    RE-CHANGING    SIDES. 

Defoe's  unwearied  zeal  in  the  service  of  Harley  had  ex- 
cited the  bitterest  resentment  among  his  old  allies,  the 
Whigs.  He  often  complained  of  it,  more  in  sorrow  than 
in  anger.  He  had  no  right  to  look  for  any  other  treat- 
ment ;  it  was  a  just  punishment  upon  him  for  seeking  the 
good  of  his  country  without  respect  of  parties.  An  au- 
thor that  wrote  from  principle  had  a  very  hard  task  in 
those  dangerous  times.  If  he  ventured  on  the  dangerous 
precipice  of  telling  unbiassed  truth,  he  must  expect  mar- 
tyrdom from  both  sides.  This  resignation  of  the  simple 
single-minded  patriot  to  the  pains  and  penalties  of  hon- 
esty, naturally  added  to  the  rage  of  the  party  with  whose 
factious  proceedings  he  would  have  nothing  to  do ;  and 
yet  it  has  always  been  thought  an  extraordinary  instance 
of  party  spite  that  the  Whigs  should  have  instituted  a 
prosecution  against  him,  on  the  alleged  ground  that  a  cer- 
tain remarkable  series  of  Tracts  were  written  in  favour  of 
the  Pretender.  Towards  the  end  of  1712  Defoe  had  is- 
.sued  A  Seasonable  Warning  and  Caution  against  the  In- 
sinuations of  Papists  and  Jacobites  in  favour  of  the  Pre- 
tender. No  charge  of  Jacobitism  could  be  made  against  a 
pamphlet  containing  such  a  sentence  as  this : — 


104  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chaP. 

"  Think,  then,  dear  Britons !  what  a  King  this  Pretender 
must  be  I  a  papist  by  inclination ;  a  tyrant  by  education ;  a 
Frenchman  by  honour  and  obligation; — and  how  long  will 
your  liberties  last  you  in  this  condition?  And  when  your 
liberties  are  gone,  how  long  will  your  religion  remain? 
When  your  hands  are  tied;  when  armies  bind  you;  when 
power  oppresses  you ;  when  a  tyrant  disarms  you ;  when  a 
Popish  French  tyrant  reigns  over  you ;  by  what  means  or 
methods  can  you  pretend  to  maintain  your  Protestant  re- 
ligion ?" 

A  second  pamphlet,  Hannibal  at  the  Gates,  strongly 
urging  party  union  and  the  banishment  of  factious  spirit, 
was  equally  unmistakable  in  tone.  The  titles  of  the  fol- 
lowing three  of  the  series  were  more  startling: — Reasons 
against  the  Succession  of  the  House  of  Hanover — And 
tvhat  if  the  Pretender  should  come?  or  Some  considera- 
tions of  the  advajitages  and  real  consequences  of  the  Pre- 
tender^s  possessing  the  Crown  of  Great  Britain — An  An- 
swer to  a  Question  that  nobody  thinks  of  viz.  But  what  if 
the  Queen  should  die?  The  contents, however,  were  plain- 
ly ironical.  The  main  reason  against  the  Succession  of 
the  Prince  of  Hanover  was  that  it  might  be  wise  for  the 
nation  to  take  a  short  turn  of  a  French,  Popish,  heredita- 
ry-right regime  in  the  first  place  as  an  emetic.  Emetics 
were  good  for  the  health  of  individuals,  and  there  could 
be  no  better  preparative  for  a  healthy  constitutional  gov- 
ernment than  another  experience  of  arbitrary  power.  De- 
foe had  used  the  same  ironical  argument  for  putting  To- 
ries in  office  in  1708.  The  advantages  of  the  Pretender's 
possessing  the  Crown  were  that  we  should  be  saved  from 
all  further  danger  of  a  war  with  France,  and  should  no 
longer  hold  the  exposed  position  of  a  Protestant  State 
among  the  great  Catholic  Powers  of  Europe.     The  point 


vu.]  DimCULTIES  IN  RE-CHANGING  SIDES.  106 

of  the  last  pamphlet  of  the  series  was  less  distinct ;  it  siijr- 
gested  the  possibility  of  the  English  people  losing  their 
properties,  their  estates,  inheritance,  lands,  goods,  lives,  and 
liberties,  unless  they  were  clear  in  their  own  minds  what 
course  to  take  in  the  event  of  the  Queen's  death.  But 
none  of  the  three  Tracts  contain  anything  that  could  pos- 
sibly be  interpreted  as  a  serious  argument  in  favour  of  the 
Pretender.  They  were  all  calculated  to  support  the  Suc- 
cession of  the  Elector  of  Hanover.  Why,  then,  should 
the  Whigs  have  prosecuted  the  author?  It  was  a  strange 
thing,  as  Defoe  did  not  fail  to  complain,  that  they  should 
try  to  punish  a  man  for  writing  in  their  own  interest. 

The  truth,  however,  is  that  although  Defoe  afterwards 
tried  to  convince  the  Whig  leaders  that  he  had  written 
these  pamphlets  in  their  interest,  they  were  written  in  the 
interest  of  Harley.  They  were  calculated  to  recommend 
that  Minister  to  Prince  George,  in  the  event  of  his  acces- 
sion to  the  English  throne.  We  see  this  at  once  when 
we  examine  their  contents  by  the  light  of  the  personal  in- 
trigues of  the  time.  Harley  was  playing  a  double  game. 
It  was  doubtful  who  the  Queen's  successor  would  be,  and 
he  aimed  at  making  himself  safe  in  either  of  the  two  pos- 
sible contingencies.  Very  soon  after  his  accession  to  pow- 
er in  1710,  he  made  vague  overtures  for  the  restoration  of 
the  Stuarts  under  guarantees  for  civil  and  religious  libertv. 
When  pressed  to  take  definite  steps  in  pursuance  of  this 
plan,  he  deprecated  haste,  and  put  off  and  ^^"t  off,  till  the 
Pretender's  adherents  lost  patience.  All  the  time  he  was 
makmg  protestations  of  fidelity  to  the  Court  of  Hanover. 
The  increasing  vagueness  of  his  promises  to  the  Jacobites 
seems  to  show  that,  as  time  went  on,  he  became  convinced 
that  the  Hanoverian  was  the  winning  cause.  No  man 
could  better  advise  him  as  to  the  feeling  of  the  English 
H 


106  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

people  than  Defoe,  who  was  constantly  perambulating  the 
country  on  secret  services,  in  all  probability  for  the  direct 
purpose  of  sounding  the  general  opinion.  It  was  towards 
the  end  of  1712,  by  which  time  Harley's  shilly-shallying 
had  effectually  disgusted  the  Jacobites,  that  the  first  of 
Defoe's  series  of  Anti-Jacobite  tracts  appeared.  It  pro- 
fessed to  be  written  by  An  Englishman  at  the  Court  of 
Hanover,  which  affords  some  ground,  though  it  must  be 
confessed  slight,  for  supposing  that  Defoe  had  visited  Han- 
over, presumably  as  the  bearer  of  some  of  Harley's  assur- 
ances of  loyalty.  The  Seasonable  Warning  and  Caution 
was  circulated,  Defoe  himself  tells  us,  in  thousands  among 
the  poor  people  by  several  of  his  friends.  Here  was  a 
fact  to  which  Harley  could  appeal  as  a  circumstantial 
proof  of  his  zeal  in  the  Hanoverian  cause.  Whether  De- 
foe's Anti-Jacobite  tracts  really  served  his  benefactor  in 
this  way,  can  only  be  matter  of  conjecture.  However  that 
may  be,  they  were  upon  the  surface  written  in  Harley's 
interest.  The  warning  and  caution  was  expressly  directed 
against  the  insinuations  that  the  Ministry  were  in  favour 
of  the  Pretender.  All  who  made  these  insinuations  were 
assumed  by  the  writer  to  be  Papists,  Jacobites,  and  ene- 
mies of  Britain.  As  these  insinuations  were  the  chief 
war-cry  of  the  Whigs,  and  we  now  know  that  they  were 
not  without  foundation,  it  is  easy  to  understand  why  De- 
foe's pamphlets,  though  Anti-Jacobite,  were  resented  by 
the  party  in  whose  interest  he  had  formerly  written.  He 
excused  himself  afterwards  by  saying  that  he  was  not 
aware  of  the  Jacobite  leanings  of  the  Ministry  ;  that  none 
of  them  ever  said  one  word  in  favour  of  the  Pretender  to 
him  ;  that  he  saw  no  reason  to  believe  that  they  did  favour 
the  Pretender.  As  for  himself,  he  said,  they  certainly  nev- 
er employed  him  in  any  Jacobite  intrigue.     He  defied  his 


Til.]  DIFFICULTIES  IN  RE-CHANGIXG  SIDES.  lo7 

enemies  to  "  prove  that  he  ever  kept  company  or  had  any 
society,  friendship,  or  conversation  with  any  Jacobite.  So 
averse  had  ho  been  to  the  interest  and  the  people,  that  ho 
had  studiously  avoided  their  company  on  all  occasions." 
Within  a  few  months  of  his  making  these  protestations,  De- 
foe was  editing  a  Jacobite  newspaper  under  secret  instruc- 
tions from  a  Whig  Government.  But  this  is  anticipating. 
That  an  influential  Whig  should  have  set  on  foot  a 
prosecution  of  Defoe  as  the  author  of  "  treasonable  libels 
against  the  House  of  Hanover,"  although  the  charge  had 
no  foundation  in  the  language  of  the  incriminated  pam- 
phlets, is  intelligible  enough.  The  Whig  party  writci-s 
were  delighted  with  the  prosecution,  one  of  them  triumph- 
ing over  Defoe  as  being  caught  at  last,  and  put  "  in  Lob's 
pound,"  and  speaking  of  him  as  *'  the  vilest  of  all  the 
writers  that  have  prostituted  their  pens  either  to  encour- 
age faction,  oblige  a  party,  or  serve  their  own  mercenary 
ends,"  But  that  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench,  before 
whom  Defoe  was  brought — with  some  difficulty,  it  would 
appear,  for  he  had  fortified  his  house  at  Ncwington  like 
Robins6n  Crusoe's  castle  —  should  have  unanimously  de- 
clared his  pamphlets  to  be  treasonable,  and  that  one  of 
them,  on  his  pleading  that  they  were  ironical,  should  have 
told  him  it  was  a  kind  of  irony  for  which  he  might  come 
to  be  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered,  is  not  so  easy  to  un- 
derstand, unless  we  suppose  that,  in  these  tempestuous 
times,  judges  like  other  men  were  powerfully  swayed  by 
party  feeling.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  they  deemed 
the  mere  titles  of  the  pamphlets  offences  in  themselves, 
disturbing  cries  raised  while  the  people  were  not  yet  clear 
of  the  forest  of  anarchy,  and  still  subject  to  dangerous 
panics — offences  of  the  same  nature  as  if  a  man  should 
shout  fire  in  sport  in  a  crowded  theatre.     Possibly,  also, 


108  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

the  severity  of  the  Court  was  increased  by  Defoe's  indis- 
cretion in  commenting  upon  the  case  in  the  Revieiv,  while 
it  was  still  sub  judice.  At  any  rate  he  escaped  punish- 
ment. The  Attorney  -  General  was  ordered  to  prosecute 
him,  but  before  the  trial  came  off  Defoe  obtained  a  pardon 
under  the  royal  seal. 

The  Whigs  were  thus  baulked  of  revenge  upon  their 
renegade.  Their  loyal  writers  attributed  Defoe's  pardon 
to  the  secret  Jacobitism  of  the  Ministry — quite  wrongly — 
as  we  have  just  seen  he  was  acting  for  Harley  as  a  Han- 
overian and  not  as  a  Jacobite.  Curiously  enough,  when 
Defoe  next  came  before  the  Queen's  Bench,  the  instigator 
of  the  prosecution  was  a  Tory,  and  the  Government  was 
Whig,  and  he  again  escaped  from  the  clutches  of  the  law 
by  the  favour  of  the  Government.  Till  Mr.  William  Lee's 
remarkable  discovery,  fourteen  years  ago,  of  certain  letters 
in  Defoe's  handwriting  in  the  State  Paper  Office,  it  was 
generally  believed  that  on  the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  the 
fall  of  the  Tory  Administration,  and  the  complete  discom- 
fiture of  Harley's  trimming  policy,  the  veteran  pamphleteer 
and  journalist,  now  fifty-three  years  of  age,  withdrew  from 
political  warfare,  and  spent  the  evening  of  his  life  in  the 
composition  of  those  works  of  fiction  which  have  made 
his  name  immortal.  His  biographers  had  misjudged  his 
character  and  underrated  his  energy.  When  Harley  fell 
from  power,  Defoe  sought  service  under  the  Whigs.  He 
had  some  difficulty  in  regaining  their  favour,  and  when  he 
did  obtain  employment  from  them,  it  was  of  a  kind  little 
to  his  honour. 

In  his  Appeal  to  Honour  and  Justice,  published  early 
in  1715,  in  which  he  defended  himself  against  the  charges 
copiously  and  virulently  urged  of  being  a  party-writer,  a 
hireling,  and  a  turncoat,  and  explained  everything  that  was 


rn.]  DIFFICULTIES  IN  RE-CHANGING  SIDES.  109 

doubtful  in  his  conduct  by  alleging  the  obligationa  of  grat- 
itude to  his  first  benefactor  Harlcy,  Defoe  declared  that 
since  the  Queen's  death  he  had  taken  refuge  in  absolute 
silence,  lie  found,  he  said,  that  if  he  offered  to  say  a 
word  in  favour  of  the  Hanoverian  settlement,  it  was  called 
fawning  and  turning  round  again,  and  therefore  he  re- 
solved to  meddle  neither  one  way  nor  the  other.  He  com- 
plained sorrowfully  that  in  spite  of  this  resolution,  and 
though  he  had  not  written  one  book  since  the  Queen's 
death,  a  great  many  things  wore  called  by  his  name.  In 
that  case,  he  had  no  resource  but  to  practise  a  Christian 
spirit  and  pray  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  enemies.  Tiiis 
was  Defoe's  own  account,  and  it  was  accepted  as  the  whole 
truth,  till  Mr.  Lee's  careful  research  and  good  fortune  gave 
a  different  colour  to  his  personal  history  from  the  time  of 
Harley's  displacement.' 

During  the  dissensions,  in  the  last  days  of  the  Queen 
which  broke  up  the  Tory  Ministry,  Mcrcator  was  dropped. 
Defoe  seems  immediately  to  have  entered  into  communi- 
cation with  the  printer  of  the  Whig  Flying  Post,  one 
"NMlliam  Hurt.  The  owner  of  the  Post  was  abroad  at  the 
time,  but  his  managers,  whether  actuated  by  personal  spite 
or  reasonable  suspicion,  learning  that  Hurt  was  in  com- 
munication with  one  whom  they  looked  upon  as  their  en- 
emy, decided  at  once  to  change  their  printer.  There  being 
no  copyright  in  newspaper  titles  in  those  days.  Hurt  retal- 
iated by  engaging  Defoe  to  write  another  paper  under  the 
same  title,  advertising  that,  from  the  arrangements  he  had 

'  In  making  mention  of  Mr.  Lee's  valuable  researches  and  discov- 
eries, I  ought  to  add  that  his  manner  of  connecting  the  facts  for 
which  I  am  indebted  to  him,  and  the  construction  he  puts  upon  thoni, 
i.-<  entirely  different  from  mine.  For  the  view  here  implied  of  Defoe's 
character  and  motives,  Mr.  Lee  is  in  no  way  responsible. 


110  DANIEL  DEFOE.  i;chap. 

made,  readers  would  find  the  new  Flying  Post  better  than 
the  old.  It  was  in  his  labours  on  this  sham  Flying  Post, 
as  the  original  indignantly  called  it  in  an  appeal  to  Hurt's 
sense  of  honour  and  justice  against  the  piracy,  that  Defoe 
came  into  collision  with  the  law.  His  new  organ  was 
warmly  loyal.  On  the  14th  of  August  it  contained  a 
highly-coloured  panegyric  of  George  I.,  which  alone  would 
refute  Defoe's  assertion  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  arts 
of  the  courtier.  His  Majesty  was  described  as  a  combina- 
tion of  more  graces,  virtues,  and  capacities  than  the  world 
had  ever  seen  united  in  one  individual,  a  man  "  born  for 
council  and  fitted  to  command  the  world."  Another  num- 
ber of  the  Flying  Post,  a  few  days  afterwards,  contained 
an  attack  on  one  of  the  few  Tories  among  the  Lords  of 
the  Regency,  nominated  for  the  management  of  affairs  till 
the  King's  arrival.  During  Bolingbroke's  brief  term  of 
ascendency,  he  had  despatched  the  Earl  of  Anglesey  on  a 
mission  to  Ireland.  The  Earl  had  hardly  landed  at  Dublin 
when  news  followed  him  of  the  Queen's  death,  and  he  re- 
turned to  act  as  one  of  the  Lords  Regent.  In  the  Flying 
Post  Defoe  asserted  that  the  object  of  his  journey  to  Ire- 
land was  "  to  new  model  the  Forces  there,  and  particularly 
to  break  no  less  than  seventy  of  the  honest  officers  of  the 
army,  and  to  fill  up  their  places  with  the  tools  and  creat- 
ures of  Con.  Phipps,  and  such  a  rabble  of  cut-throats  as 
were  fit  for  the  work  that  they  had  for  them  to  do."  That 
there  was  some  truth  in  the  allegation  is  likely  enough ; 
Sir  Constantine  Phipps  was,  at  least,  shortly  afterwards 
dismissed  from  his  oflSces.  But  Lord  Anglesey  at  once 
took  action  against  it  as  a  scandalous  libel.  Defoe  was 
brought  before  the  Lords  Justices,  and  committed  for 
trial. 

He  was  liberated,  however,  on  bail,  and  in  spite  of  what 


ni.]  DIFFICULTIES  IN  RE-CnANT.INC.  SIDES.  Ill 

lie  says  about  his  resolution  not  to  meddle  on  cither  side, 
made  an  energetic  use  of  his  liberty.  He  wrote  The 
Secret  History  of  One  Year — the  year  after  William's  ac- 
cession—  vindicating  the  King's  clemency  towards  the 
abettors  of  the  arbitrary  government  of  James,  and  ex- 
plaining that  he  was  compelled  to  employ  many  of  them 
by  the  rapacious  scrambling  of  his  own  adherents  for 
places  and  pensions.  The  indirect  bearing  of  this  tract  is 
obvious.  In  October  three  pamphlets  came  from  Defoe's 
fertile  pen ;  an  Advice  to  the  People  of  England  to  lay 
juside  feuds  and  faction,  and  live  together  under  the  new 
King  like  good  Christians;  and  two  parts,  in  quick  suc- 
cession, of  a  Secret  History  of  the  White  Staff.  This  last 
work  was  an  account  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
the  Treasurer's  White  Staff  was  taken  from  the  Earl  of 
Oxford,  and  put  his  conduct  in  a  favourable  light,  exoner- 
ating him  from  the  suspicion  of  Jacobitism,  and  affirming 
— not  quite  accurately,  as  other  accounts  of  the  transaction 
seem  to  imply — that  it  was  by  Harley's  advice  that  the 
Staff  was  committed  to  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  One 
would  be  glad  to  accept  this  as  proof  of  Defoe's  attach- 
ment to  the  cause  of  his  disgraced  benefactor ;  yet  ilarley, 
as  he  lay  in  the  Tower  awaiting  his  trial  on  an  impeach- 
ment of  high  treason,  issued  a  disclaimer  concerning  the 
Secret  History  and  another  pamphlet,  entitled  An  Ac- 
count of  the  Conduct  of  Robert,  Earl  of  Oxford.  These 
pamphlets,  he  said,  were  not  written  with  his  knowledge, 
or  by  his  direction  or  encouragement ;  "  on  the  contrary, 
he  had  reason  to  believe  from  several  passages  therein  con- 
tained that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  author,  or  authors, 
to  do  him  a  prejudice."  This  disclaimer  may  have  been 
dictated  by  a  wish  not  to  appear  wanting  in  respect  to  his 
judges ;  at  any  rate,  Defoe's  Secret  History  bears  no  trace 


112  DANIEL  DEFOE.  Jchap. 

on  the  surface  of  a  design  to  prejudice  him  by  its  recital 
of  facts.  An  Appeal  to  Honour  and  Justice  was  Defoe's 
next  production.  While  writing  it,  he  was  seized  with  a 
violent  apoplectic  fit,  and  it  was  issued  with  a  Conclusion 
by  the  Publisher,  mentioning  this  circumstance,  explaining 
that  the  pamphlet  was  consequently  incomplete,  and  add- 
ing :  "  If  he  recovers,  he  may  be  able  to  finish  what  he  be- 
gan ;  if  not,  it  is  the  opinion  of  most  that  know  him  that 
the  treatment  which  he  here  complains  of,  and  some  oth- 
ers that  he  would  have  spoken  of,  have  been  the  apparent 
cause  of  his  disaster."  There  is  no  sign  of  incomplete- 
ness in  the  Appeal ;  and  the  Conclusion  by  the  Publisher, 
while  the  author  lay  "in  a  weak  and  languishing  condi- 
tion, neither  able  to  go  on  nor  likely  to  recover,  at  least  in 
any  short  time,"  gives  a  most  artistic  finishing  stroke  to 
it.  Defoe  never  interfered  with  the  perfection  of  it  after 
his  recovery,  which  took  place  very  shortly.  The  Appeal 
was  issued  in  the  first  week  of  January ;  before  the  end  of 
the  month  the  indomitable  writer  was  ready  with  a  Third 
Part  of  the  Secret  History,  and  a  reply  to  Atterbury's  Ad- 
vice to  the  Freeholders  of  England  in  view  of  the  approach- 
ing elections.  A  series  of  tracts  written  in  the  character 
of  a  Quaker  quickly  followed,  one  rebuking  a  Dissenting 
preacher  for  inciting  the  nevv  Government  to  vindictive 
severities,  another  rebuking  Sacheverell  for  hypocrisy  and 
perjury  in  taking  the  oath  of  abjuration,  a  third  rebuking 
the  Duke  of  Ormond  for  encouraging  Jacobite  and  High- 
Church  mobs.  In  March,  Defoe  published  his  Family  In- 
structor, a  book  of  450  pages  ;  in  July,  his  History,  by  a 
Scots  Gentleman  in  the  Swedish  Service,  of  the  Wars  of 
Charles  XII. 

Formidable  as  the  list  of  these  works  seems,  it  does  not 
represent  more  than  Defoe's  average  rate  of  production 


vii.]  DIFFICULTIES  IX  RE  CHANCING  SIPKS.  113 

for  thirty  years  of  his  life.  With  grave  anxieties  added 
to  the  strain  of  such  incessant  toil,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
nature  should  have  raised  its  protest  in  an  apoplectic  fit. 
Even  nature  must  have  owned  herself  vanquished,  when 
she  saw  this  very  protest  pressed  into  the  service  of  the 
irresistible  and  triumphant  worker.  All  the  tinie  he  was 
at  large  upon  bail,  awaiting  his  trial.  The  trial  took  place 
in  July,  1715,  and  he  was  found  guilty.  But  sentence  was 
deferred  till  next  terra.  October  came  round,  but  Defoo 
did  not  appear  to  receive  his  sentence.  He  had  made  his 
peace  with  the  Government,  upon  "capitulations"  of  which 
chance  has  preserved  the  record  in  his  own  handwriting. 
Ue  represented  privately  to  Lord  Chief  Justice  Parker 
that  he  had  always  been  devoted  to  the  "Whig  interest, 
and  that  any  seeming  departure  from  it  had  been  due  to 
errors  of  judgment,  not  to  want  of  attachment,  ^^^lethc^ 
the  Whig  leaders  believed  this  representation  wc  do  not 
know,  but  they  agreed  to  pardon  "all  former  mistakes"  if 
he  would  now  enter  faithfully  into  their  service.  Though 
the  Hanoverian  succession  had  been  cordially  welcomed  by 
the  steady  masses  of  the  nation,  the  Mar  Rebellion  in  Scot- 
land and  the  sympathy  shown  with  this  movement  in  the 
south  warned  them  that  their  enemies  were  not  to  be  de- 
spised. There  was  a  large  turbulent  clement  in  the  popu- 
lation, upon  which  agitators  might  work  with  fatal  cflFect. 
The  Jacobites  had  still  a  hold  upon  the  Press,  and  the  pa.st 
years  had  been  fruitful  of  examples  of  the  danger  of  try- 
ing to  crush  sec'  cion  with  the  arm  of  the  law.  Prosecu- 
tion had  been  proved  to  be  the  surest  road  to  popularity. 
It  occurred  therefore  that  Defoe  might  be  useful  if  he 
still  passed  as  an  opponent  of  the  Government,  insinuating 
himself  as  such  into  the  confidence  of  Jacobites,  obtained 
control  of  their  publications,  and  nipped  mischief  in  the 
85  fi 


114  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap.  vii. 

bud.  It  was  a  dangerous  and  delicate  service,  exposing 
the  emissary  to  dire  revenge  if  he  were  detected,  and  to 
suspicion  and  misconstruction  from  his  employers  in  his 
efforts  to  escape  detection.  But  Defoe,  delighting  in  his 
superior  wits,  and  happy  in  the  midst  of  dangerous  in- 
trigues, boldly  undertook  the  task. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

LATER    JOURNALISTIC    LABOURS. 

For  the  discovery  of  this  "strange  and  surprising"  chap- 
ter in  Defoe's  life,  which  clears  up  much  that  might  oth- 
erwise have  been  disputable  in  his  character,  the  world  is 
indebted  solely  to  Mr.  "William  Lee.  Accident  put  Mr. 
Lee  on  the  right  scent,  from  which  previous  biographers 
had  been  diverted  by  too  literal  and  implicit  a  faith  in 
the  arch-deceiver's  statements,  and  too  comprehensive  an 
application  of  his  complaint  that  his  name  was  made  the 
hackney  title  of  the  times,  upon  which  all  sorts  of  low 
scribblers  fathered  their  vile  productions.  Defoe's  secret 
sendees  on  Tory  papers  exposed  him,  as  we  have  seen,  to 
misconstruction.  Nobody  knew  this  better  than  himself, 
and  nobody  could  have  guarded  against  it  with  more 
sleepless  care.  In  the  fourth  year  of  King  George's  reign 
a  change  took  place  in  the  Ministry.  Lord  Townsliend 
was  succeeded  in  the  Home  Secretary's  office  by  Lord 
Stanhope.  Thereupon  Defoe  judged  it  expedient  to  write 
to  a  private  secretary,  Mr.  de  la  Faye,  explaining  at  length 
his  position.  This  letter  along  with  five  others,  also  de- 
signed to  prevent  misconstruction  by  his  employers,  lay  in 
the  State  Paper  Office  till  the  year  1864,  when  the  whole 
packet  fell  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Lee.  The  following  suc- 
cinct fragment  of  autobiography  is  dated  April  20, 1718. 


116  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

"  Thougli  I  doubt  not  but  you  have  acquainted  my  Lord 
Stanliope  with  what  humble  sense  of  his  lordship's  goodness 
I  received  the  account  you  were  pleased  to  give  me,  that  my 
little  services  are  accepted,  and  that  his  lordship  is  satisfied 
to  go  upon  the  foot  of  former  capitulations,  etc. ;  yet  I  con- 
fess, Sir,  I  have  been  anxious  upon  many  accounts,  with  re- 
spect as  well  to  the  service  itself  as  my  own  safety,  lest  my 
lord  may  think  himself  ill-served  by  me,  even  when  I  have 
best  performed  my  duty. 

"  I  thought  it  therefore  not  only  a  debt  to  myself,  but  a 
duty  to  his  lordship,  that  I  should  give  his  lordshij)  a  short 
account,  as  clear  as  I  can,  how  far  my  former  instructions  em- 
powered me  to  act,  and  in  a  word  what  this  little  piece  of 
service  is,  for  which  I  am  so  much  a  subject  of  his  lordship's 
present  favour  and  bounty. 

"  It  w^as  in  the  Ministry  of  my  Lord  Townshend,  when  my 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Parker,  to  w^hom  I  stand  obliged  for  the 
favour,  was  pleased  so  far  to  state  my  case,  that  notwithstand- 
ing the  misrepresentations  under  which  I  had  suffered,  and 
notwithstanding  some  mistakes  which  I  was  the  first  to  ac- 
knowledge, I  was  so  happy  as  to  be  believed  iu  the  profes- 
sions I  made  of  a  sincere  attachment  to  the  interest  of  the 
present  Government,  and,  speaking  with  all  possible  humili- 
ty, I  hope  I  have  not  dishonoured  my  Lord  Parker's  recom- 
mendation. 

"  In  considering,  after  this,  which  way  I  might  be  rendered 
most  useful  to  the  Government,  it  was  proposed  by  my  Lord 
Townshend  that  I  should  still  appear  as  if  I  were,  as  before, 
under  the  displeasure  of  the  Government,  and  separated  from 
the  Whigs ;  and  that  I  might  be  more  serviceable  in  a  kind 
of  disguise  than  if  I  appeared  openly ;  and  ujoon  this  foot  a 
weekly  paper,  which  I  was  at  first  directed  to  write,  in  oppo- 
sition to  a  scandalous  paper  called  the  Shift  Shifted, -was  laid 
aside,  and  the  first  thing  I  engaged  in  was  a  monthly  book 
called  Mercurius  Politicus,  of  which  presently.  In  the  inter- 
val of  this,  Dyer,  the  News-Letter  writer,  having  been  dead, 


viii]  LATKK  JOIRNALISTIC  LAUOruS.  117 

and  Dormer,  his  successor,  Ijcing  unal)lc  by  his  troubles  to 
curry  on  that  work,  I  had  an  oflfcr  of  a  share  in  the  property, 
as  well  as  in  the  management  of  that  work. 

"  I  immediately  acquainted  my  Lord  Townshend  of  it.  who, 
by  Mr.  Buckley,  let  me  know  it  would  be  a  very  acceptable 
piece  of  service;  for  that  letter  was  really  very  prejudicial  to 
the  public,  and  the  most  difficult  to  come  at  in  a  judicial  way 
in  case  of  offence  given.  My  lord  was  pleased  to  add,  by  Sir. 
Buckley,  that  he  would  consider  my  service  in  that  case,  as 
he  afterwards  did. 

"  Upon  this  I  engaged  in  it ;  and  that  so  far,  that  though 
the  projjerty  was  not  wholly  my  own,  yet  the  conduct  and 
government  of  the  style  and  news  was  so  entirely  in  me,  that 
I  ventured  to  assure  his  lordship  the  sting  of  that  mischievous 
paper  should  be  entirely  taken  out,  though  it  was  granted 
that  the  style  should  continue  Tory  as  it  was,  that  the  party 
might  be  amused  and  not  set  up  another,  which  would  have 
destroyed  the  design,  and  this  part  I  therefore  take  entirely 
on  myself  still. 

"  This  went  on  for  a  year,  before  my  Lord  Townshend  went 
out  of  the  office ;  and  his  lordshi}),  in  consideration  of  this 
service,  made  me  the  appointment  which  ]Mr.  Buckley  knows 
of,  with  promise  of  a  further  allowance  as  service  presented. 

"My  Lord  Sunderland,  to  whose  goodness  I  had  many 
years  ago  been  obliged,  when  I  was  in  a  secret  commission 
sent  to  Scotland,  was  pleased  to  approve  and  continue  tiiis 
service,  atid  the  appointment  annexed ;  and  with  his  lord- 
ship's approbation,  I  introduced  myself,  in  the  disguise  of  a 
translator  of  the  foreign  news,  to  be  so  far  concerned  in  this 
weekly  paper  of  Misfs  as  to  be  able  to  keep  it  within  the 
circle  of  a  secret  management,  also  prevent  the  mischievous 
part  of  it ;  and  yet  neither  Mist,  or  any  of  those  concerned 
with  him,  have  the  least  guess  or  suspicion  by  whose  direc- 
tion I  do  it. 

"  But  here  it  becomes  necessary  to  acquaint  my  lord  (as  I 
hinted  to  you,  Sir),  that  this  paper,  called  the  Journal,  is  no^ 


118  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap, 

in  myself  in  property,  as  the  other,  only  in  management ;  with 
this  express  difference,  that  if  anything  happens  to  be  put  in 
without  my  knowledge,  which  may  give  offence,  or  if  any- 
thing slips  my  observation  which  may  be  ill-taken,  his  lord- 
ship shall  be  sure  always  to  know  whether  he  has  a  servant 
to  reprove  or  a  stranger  to  correct. 

"  Upon  the  whole,  however,  this  is  the  consequence,  that  by 
this  management,  the  weekly  Journal,  and  Dormer'' s  Letter,  as 
also  the  Mercurius  PoUticus,  which  is  in  the  same  nature  of 
management  as  the  Journal,  will  be  always  kept  (mistakes 
excepted)  to  pass  as  Tory  papers  and  yet,  be  disabled  and 
enervated,  so  as  to  do  no  mischief  or  give  any  offence  to  the 
Government." 

Others  of  the  tell-tale  letters  show  us  in  detail  how  De- 
foe acquitted  himself  of  his  engagements  to  the  Govern- 
ment— bowing,  as  he  said,  in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  In 
one  he  speaks  of  a  traitorous  pamphlet  which  he  has  stop- 
ped at  the  press,  and  begs  the  Secretary  to  assure  his  supe- 
riors that  he  has  the  original  in  safe  keeping,  and  that  no 
eye  but  his  own  has  seen  it.  In  another  he  apologizes  for 
an  obnoxious  paragraph  which  had  crept  into  Misi'sJouT' 
nal,  avowing  that  "  Mr.  Mist  did  it,  after  I  had  looked  over 
what  he  had  gotten  together,"  that  he  [Defoe]  had  no  con- 
cern in  it,  directly  or  indirectly,  and  that  he  thought  him- 
self obliged  to  notice  this,  to  make  good  what  he  said  in 
his  last,  \dz.  that  if  any  mistake  happened.  Lord  Stanhope 
should  always  know  whether  he  had  a  servant  to  reprove 
or  a  stranger  to  punish.  In  another  he  expresses  his  alarm 
at  hearing  of  a  private  suit  against  Morphew,  the  printer  of 
the  Mercurius  PoUticus,  for  a  passage  in  that  paper,  and 
explains,  first,  that  the  obnoxious  passage  appeared  two 
years  before,  and  was  consequently  covered  by  a  capitula- 
tion giving  him  indemnity  for  all  former  mistakes;  sec- 
ondly, that  the  thing  itself  was  not  his,  neither  could  any 


vm.]  LATER  JOURNALISTIC  L.VUOUIIS.  11  j 

one  pretend  to  charge  it  on  him,  and  consequently  it  could 
not  be  adduced  as  proof  of  any  faihirc  in  his  duty.  In 
another  letter  he  gives  an  account  of  a  new  treaty  with 
Mist,  "  1  need  not  trouble  you,"  he  says,  "  with  the  par* 
ticulars,  but  in  a  word  he  professes  himself  convinced  that 
he  has  been  wrong,  that  the  Government  has  treated  him 
with  lenity  and  forbearance,  and  he  solemnly  engages  to 
me  to  give  no  more  offence.  The  liberties  Mr.  Buckley 
mentioned,  viz.  to  seem  on  the  same  side  as  before,  to  rally 
the  Flying  Post,  the  Whig  writers,  and  even  the  word 
*  Whig,'  &c.,  and  to  admit  foolish  and  trifling  things  in  fa- 
vour of  the  Tories.  This,  as  I  represented  it  to  him,  he 
agrees  is  liberty  enough,  and  resolves  his  paper  shall,  for 
the  future,  amuse  the  Tories,  but  not  affront  the  Govern* 
ment."  If  Mist  should  break  through  this  understanding, 
Defoe  hopos  it  will  be  understood  that  it  is  not  his  fault; 
he  can  only  say  that  the  printer's  resolutions  of  amendment 
seem  to  be  sincere. 

"In  pursuance  also  of  tliis  reformation,  he  brought  me  this 
morning  the  enclosed  letter,  wbicli,  indeed,  I  was  glad  to  see, 
because,  tliougli  it  seems  couched  in  tenns  which  miglit  liave 
been  made  public,  yet  has  a  secret  gall  in  it,  and  a  manliest 
tendency  to  reproach  the  Government  with  partiality  and 
injustice,  and  (as  it  acknowledges  expressly)  was  written  to 
serve  a  present  turn.  As  this  is  an  earnest  of  his  just  inten- 
tion, I  hope  he  will  go  on  to  your  satisfaction. 

"Give  me  leave,  Sir, to  mention  here  a  circumstance  which 
concerns  myself,  and  whicli,  indeed,  is  a  little  hardship  upon 
me,  viz.  that  I  seem  to  merit  less,  when  I  intercept  a  piece  of 
barefaced  treason  at  the  Press,  than  when  I  stop  such  a  letter 
as  the  enclosed  ;  because  one  seems  to  be  of  a  kind  which  no 
man  would  dare  to  meddle  with.  But  I  would  persuade  my- 
self, Sir,  that  stopping  such  notorious  things  is  not  without 
its  good  effect,  particularly  because,  as  it  is  true  that  some 


120  DAMEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

people  are  generally  found  who  do  venture  to  print  any- 
thing that  oflFers,  so  stopping  them  here  is  some  discourage- 
ment and  disappointment  to  them,  and  they  often  die  in  our 
hands. 

"  I  speak  this,  Sir,  as  well  on  occasion  of  what  you  were 
pleased  to  say  upon  that  letter  which  l  sent  you  formerly 
about  Killing  no  Murder^  as  upon  another  with  verses  in  it, 
which  Mr.  Mist  gave  me  yesterday ;  which,  upon  my  word, 
is  so  villainous  and  scandalous  that  I  scarce  dare  to  send  it 
without  your  order,  and  an  assurance  that  my  doing  so  shall 
be  taken  well,  for  I  confess  it  has  a  peculiar  insolence  in  it 
against  His  Majesty's  person  which  (as  blasphemous  words 
against  God)  are  scarce  fit  to  be  repeated." 

In  the  last  of  the  series  (of  date  June  13, 1718),  Defoe 
is  able  to  assure  his  employers  that  "  he  believes  the  time 
is  come  when  the  journal,  instead  of  affronting  and  offend- 
ing the  Government,  may  many  ways  be  made  serviceable 
to  the  Government ;  and  he  has  Mr.  M.  so  absolutely  re- 
signed to  proper  measures  for  it,  that  he  is  persuaded  he 
may  answer  for  it." 

Following  up  the  clue  afforded  by  these  letters,  Mr.  Lee 
has  traced  the  history  of  Misfs  Journal  under  Defoe's 
surveillance.  Mist  did  not  prove  so  absolutely  resigned 
to  proper  measures  as  his  supervisor  had  begun  to  hope. 
On  the  contraiy,  he  had  frequent  fits  of  refractory  obsti- 
nacy, and  gave  a  good  deal  of  trouble  both  to  Defoe  and 
to  the  Government.  Between  them,  however,  they  had 
the  poor  man  completely  in  their  power.  When  he  yield- 
ed to  the  importunity  of  his  Jacobite  correspondents,  or 
kicked  against  the  taunts  of  the  Whig  organs  about  his 
wings  being  clipped — they,  no  more  than  he,  knew  how — 
his  secret  controllers  had  two  ways  of  bringmg  him  to  rea- 
son. Sometimes  the  Government  prosecuted  him,  wisely 
choosing  occasions  for  their  displeasure   on  which  they 


vm.J  LATER  .lOURXAIJSTir  LAnoi'RS.  li| 

were  likely  to  have  popular  fecliiifj  on  their  side.  At  oth- 
er times  Defoe  threatened  to  withdraw  and  have  nothinj; 
more  to  do  with  the  Journal.  Onec  or  twice  he  carried 
this  threat  into  execution.  His  absence  soon  told  on  tlio 
circulation,  and  Mist  entreated  him  to  return,  making 
promises  of  good  behaviour  for  the  future.  Further,  Do- 
foe  commended  himself  to  the  gratitude  of  his  uncon- 
scious dupe  by  sympathizing  with  him  in  his  troubles, 
undertaking  the  conduct  of  the  paper  while  he  lay  in  pris- 
on, and  editing  two  volumes  of  a  selection  of  Miscellany 
Letters  from  its  columns.  At  last,  however,  after  eight 
years  of  this  partnership,  during  which  Mist  had  no  suspi- 
cion of  Defoe's  connexion  with  the  Government,  the  se- 
cret somehow  seems  to  have  leaked  out.  Such  at  least  is 
Mr.  Lee's  highly  probable  explanation  of  a  murderous  at- 
tack made  by  Mist  upon  his  partner. 

Defoe,  of  course,  stoutly  denied  Mist's  accusations,  and 
published  a  touching  account  of  the  circumstances,  de 
scribing  his  assailant  as  a  lamentable  instance  of  ingrati 
tude.  Here  was  a  man  whom  he  had  saved  from  the  gal 
lows,  and  befriended  at  his  own  risk  in  the  utmost  dis- 
tress, turning  round  upon  him,  "  basely  using,  insulting, 
and  provoking  him,  and  at  last  drawing  his  sword  upon  his 
benefactor."  Defoe  disarmed  him,  gave  him  his  life,  and 
sent  for  a  surgeon  to  dress  his  wounds.  But  even  this 
was  not  enough.  Mist  would  give  him  nothing  but  abuse 
of  the  worst  and  grossest  nature.  It  almost  shook  Defoe's 
faith  in  human  nature.  Was  there  ever  such  ingratitude 
known  before  ?  The  most  curious  thing  is  that  Mr.  Lee, 
who  has  brought  all  these  facts  to  light,  seems  to  share 
Defoe's  ingenuous  astonishment  at  this  "  strange  instance 
of  ungrateful  violence,"  and  conjectures  that  it  must  have 
proceeded  from  imaginary  wrong  of  a  very  grievous  nat- 
I  6* 


122  DAIOEL  DEFOE.  [cHAf. 

ure,  such  as  a  suspicion  that  Defoe  had  instigated  the 
Government  to  prosecute  him.  It  is  perhaps  as  well  that 
it  should  have  fallen  to  so  loyal  an  admirer  to  exhume  De- 
foe's secret  services  and  public  protestations ;  the  record 
might  otherwise  have  been  rejected  as  incredible. 

Mr.  Lee's  researches  were  not  confined  to  Defoe's  rela- 
tions with  Mist  and  his  journal,  and  the  other  publications 
mentioned  in  the  precious  letter  to  Mr.  de  la  Faje.  Once 
assured  that  Defoe  did  not  withdraw  from  newspaper- 
writing  in  1*715,  he  ransacked  the  journals  of  the  period 
for  traces  of  his  hand  and  contemporary  allusions  to  his 
labours.  A  rich  harvest  rewarded  Mr.  Lee's  zeal.  Defoe's 
indi\iduality  is  so  marked  that  it  thrusts  itself  through 
every  disguise,  A  careful  student  of  the  Mevietv,  who  had 
compared  it  with  the  literature  of  the  time,  and  learnt  his 
peculiar  tricks  of  style  and  vivid  ranges  of  interest,  could 
not  easily  be  at  fault  in  identifying  a  composition  of  any 
length.  Defoe's  incomparable  clearness  of  statement  would 
alone  betray  him ;  that  was  a  gift  of  nature  which  no  art 
could  successfully  imitate.  Contemporaries  also  were  quick 
at  recognising  their  Proteus  in  his  many  shapes,  and  their 
gossip  gives  a  strong  support  to  internal  evidence,  resting 
as  it  probably  did  on  evidences  which  were  not  altogether 
internal.  Though  Mr.  Lee  may  have  been  rash  sometimes 
in  quoting  little  scraps  of  news  as  Defoe's,  he  must  be  ad- 
mitted to  have  established  that,  prodigious  as  was  the  num- 
ber and  extent  of  the  veteran's  separate  publications  dur- 
ing the  reign  of  the  First  George,  it  was  also  the  most  ac- 
tive period  of  his  career  as  a  journalist.  Managing  Mist 
and  writing  for  his  journal  would  have  been  work  enough 
for  an  ordinary  man ;  but  Defoe  founded,  conducted,  and 
wrote  for  a  host  of  other  newspapers — the  moniUy  Mercu- 
rins  Politicus,  an  octavo  of  sixty-four  pages  (1716 — 1720) ; 


vm  1  LATER  JOURNALISTIC  LABOTJR&  lit 

the  weekly  Dormer's  Neirs-Lettn-  (written,  not  printt-d, 
1716—1718);  the  Whitehall  Ecvninri  Post  (a  tri- weekly 
quarto-sheet,  established  1718);  the  Da'di/  Post  (ii  daily 
sinjvle  leaf,  folio,  established  1719);  and  Applcbevs  Journal 
(with  which  his  connexion  began  in  1720  and  ended  in 
17-26). 

The  contribntions  to  these  newspapers  which  Mr.  Loe 
has  assigned,  with  great  judgment  it  seems  to  rac,  to  De- 
foe, range  over  a  wide  field  of  topics,  from  piracy  and  high- 
way robberies  to  suicide  and  the  Divinity  of  Christ.  De- 
foe's own  test  of  a  good  writer  was  that  he  should  at  onco 
please  and  serve  his  readers,  and  he  kept  tiiis  double  objctrt 
in  view  in  his  newspaper  writings,  as  much  as  in  jRnblnsoii 
Crusoe,  Moll  Flanders,  and  the  Family  Instructor.  Great 
as  is  the  variety  of  subjects  in  the  selections  wliich  Mr. 
Lee  has  made  upon  internal  evidence,  they  are  all  of  them 
subjects  in  which  Defoe  showed  a  keen  interest  in  his  ac- 
knowledged works.  In  providing  amusement  for  his  read- 
ers, he  did  not  soar  above  his  age  in  point  of  refinement; 
and  in  pronding  instruction,  he  did  not  fall  below  his  age 
in  point  of  morality  and  religion.  It  is  a  notable  circum- 
stance that  one  of  the  marks  by  which  contemporaries 
traced  his  hand  was  "  the  little  art  he  is  truly  master  of, 
of  forging  a  story  and  imposing  it  on  the  world  for  truth." 
Of  this  he  gave  a  conspicuous  instance  in  Mist\s  Journal 
in  an  account  of  the  marvellous  blowing  up  of  the  island 
of  St.  Vincent,  which  in  circumstantial  invention  and  force 
of  description  must  be  ranked  among  his  master- pieces. 
But  Defoe  did  more  than  embellish  stories  of  strango 
events  for  his  newspapers.  He  was  a  master  of  journal- 
istic art  in  all  its  branches,  and  a  fertile  inventor  and  or- 
ganizer of  new  devices.  It  is  to  him,  Mr.  Lee  says,  and 
his  researches  entitle  him  to  authority,  that  we  owe  the 


124  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

prototype  of  the  leading  article,  a  Letter  Introductory,  aa 
it  became  tbe  fashion  to  call  it,  written  on  some  subject 
of  general  interest  and  placed  at  the  commencement  of 
each  number.  The  writer  of  this  Letter  Introductory  was 
known  as  the  "  author  "  of  the  paper. 

Another  feature  in  journalism  which  Defoe  greatly  help- 
ed to  develop,  if  he  did  not  actually  invent,  was  the  Jour- 
nal of  Society.  In  the  Review  he  had  provided  for  the 
amusement  of  his  readers  by  the  device  of  a  Scandal  Club, 
whose  transactions  he  professed  to  report.  But  political 
excitement  was  intense  throughout  the  whole  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign ;  Defoe  could  afford  but  small  space  for 
scandal,  and  his  Club  was  often  occupied  with  fighting 
his  minor  political  battles.  When,  however,  the  Hano- 
verian succession  was  secured,  and  the  land  had  rest  from 
the  hot  strife  of  parties,  light  gossip  was  more  in  request. 
Newspapers  became  less  political,  and  their  circulation 
extended  from  the  coffee-houses,  inns,  and  ale-houses  to  a 
new  class  of  readers.  "They  have  of  late,"  a  writer  in 
Applebee's  Journal  says  in  1725,  "been  taken  in  much  by 
the  women,  especially  the  political  ladies,  to  assist  at  the 
tea-table,"  Defoe  seems  to  have  taken  an  active  part  in 
making  Misfs  Journal  and  Ap2)lebee's  Journal,  both  Tory 
organs,  suitable  for  this  more  frivolous  section  of  the  pub- 
lic. This  fell  in  with  his  purpose  of  diminishing  the  po- 
litical weight  of  these  journals,  and  at  the  same  time  in- 
creased their  sale.  He  converted  them  from  rabid  party 
agencies  into  registers  of  domestic  news  and  vehicles  of 
social  disquisitions,  sometimes  grave,  sometimes  gay  il 
subject,  but  uniformly  bright  and  spirited  in  tone. 

The  raw  materials  of  several  of  Defoe's  elaborate  tales, 
such  as  Moll  Flanders  and  Colonel  Jack,  are  to  be  found  in 
the  coltunns  of  Misfs  and  Applebee's.     In  connexion  with 


nil.]  LATER  JOURNALISTIC  LABOUBa  125 

Applehees  more  particularly,  Defoe  went  some  way  towards 
anticipating  the  work  of  the  modern  Special  Correspond- 
ent. He  apparently  interviewed  distinguished  criminals 
in  Newgate,  and  extracted  from  them  the  stories  of  their 
lives.  Part  of  what  he  thus  gathered  he  communicated  to 
Applebee ;  sometimes,  when  the  notoriety  of  the  case  jus- 
tified it,  he  drew  up  longer  narratives  and  published  them 
separately  as  pamphlets.  He  was  an  adept  in  the  art  of 
puflSng  his  own  productions,  whether  books  or  journals. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  any  American  editor  ever 
mastered  this  art  more  thoroughly  than  Defoe.  Nothing, 
for  instance,  could  surpass  the  boldness  of  Defoe's  plan  for 
directing  public  attention  to  his  narrative  of  the  robberies 
and  escapes  of  Jack  Sheppard.  He  seems  to  have  taken  a 
particular  interest  in  this  daring  gaol-breaker.  Mr.  Lee,  in 
fact,  finds  evidence  that  he  had  gained  Sheppard's  affec- 
tionate esteem.  He  certainly  turned  his  acquaintance  to 
admirable  account.  He  procured  a  letter  for  Applcbee's 
Journal  from  Jack,  with  "kind  love,"  and  a  copy  of  verses 
of  his  own  composition.  Both  letter  and  verses  probably 
came  from  a  more  practised  pen,  but,  to  avert  suspicion, 
the  original  of  the  letter  was  declared  to  be  on  view  at 
Applebee's,  and  "  well  known  to  be  in  the  handwriting  of 
John  Sheppard."  Next  Defoe  prepared  a  thrilling  narra- 
tive of  Jack's  adventures,  which  was  of  course  described  as 
written  by  the  prisoner  himself,  and  printed  at  his  particu- 
lar desire.  But  this  was  not  all.  The  artful  author  fur- 
ther arranged  that  when  Sheppard  reached  his  place  of 
execution,  he  should  send  for  a  friend  to  the  cart  as  ho 
stood  under  the  gibbet,  and  deliver  a  copy  of  the  pam- 
phlet as  his  last  speech  and  dying  confession.  A  para- 
graph recording  this  incident  was  duly  inserted  in  the 
newspapers.      It  is  a  crowning  illustration  of  the  inven- 


126  DANIEL  DEFOK  [chap. 

tive  daring  witli  wliicli  Defoe  practised  the  tricks  of  his 
trade. 

One  of  Defoe's  last  works  in  connection  with  journal- 
ism was  to  write  a  prospectus  for  a  new  weekly  periodical, 
the  Universal  Spectator,  which  was  started  by  his  son-in- 
law,  Henry  Baker,  in  October,  1728.  There  is  more  than 
internal  and  circumstantial  evidence  that  this  prospectus 
was  Defoe's  composition.  When  Baker  retired  from  the 
paper  five  years  afterwards,  he  drew  up  a  list  of  the  arti- 
cles which  had  appeared  under  his  editorship,  with  the 
names  of  the  writers  attached.  This  list  has  been  pre- 
served, and  from  it  we  learn  that  the  first  number,  contain- 
ing a  prospectus  and  an  introductory  essay  on  the  qualifi- 
cations of  a  good  writer,  was  written  by  Defoe.  That  ex- 
perienced journalist  naturally  tried  to  give  an  air  of  nov- 
elty to  the  enterprise.  "  If  this  paper,"  the  first  sentence 
runs,  "  was  not  intended  to  be  what  no  paper  at  present 
is,  we  should  never  attempt  to  crowd  in  among  such 
a  throng  of  public  writers  as  at  this  time  oppress  the 
town."  In  effect  the  scheme  of  the  Universal  Spectator 
was  to  revive  the  higher  kind  of  periodical  essays  which 
made  the  reputation  of  the  earlier  Spectator.  Attempts 
to  follow  in  the  wake  of  Addison  and  Steele  had  for  so 
long  ceased  to  be  features  in  journalism ;  their  manner  had 
been  so  effectually  superseded  by  less  refined  purveyors  of 
light  literature  —  Defoe  himself  going  heartily  with  the 
stream — that  the  revival  was  opportune,  and  in  point  of 
fact  proved  successful,  the  Universal  Spectator  continuing 
to  exist  for  nearly  twenty  years.  It  shows  how  quickly 
the  Spectator  took  its  place  among  the  classics,  that  the 
writer  of  the  prospectus  considered  it  necessary  to  depre- 
cate a  charge  of  presumption  in  seeming  to  challenge  com- 
parison. 


viii.]  LATER  JOURNALISTIC  LABOURS.  127 

'•Let  no  man  envy  us  the  celebrated  title  we  liave  iis3umcd, 
or  charge  us  with  arrogance,  as  it*  we  bid  the  world  expect 
great  things  from  us.  Must  wc  have  uo  power  to  please,  un- 
less we  come  up  to  the  full  height  of  those  inimitable  per- 
formances? Is  there  uo  wit  or  humour  left  because  tiiey  are 
gone  ?  Is  the  spirit  of  the  Spectators  all  lost,  and  their  man- 
tle fallen  upon  nobody  ?  Have  they  said  all  that  can  be 
Siiid?  Has  the  world  offered  no  variety,  and  presented  no 
new  scenes,  since  they  retired  from  us?  Or  did  they  leave 
off,  because  they  were  quite  exhausted,  and  had  no  more  to 
say  ?" 

Defoe  did  not  always  speak  so  rcspectfally  of  the  au- 
thors of  the  Spectator.  If  he  had  been  asked  why  they 
left  off,  he  would  probably  have  given  the  reason  con- 
tained in  the  last  sentence,  and  backed  his  opinion  by 
contemptuous  remarks  about  the  want  of  fertility  in  the 
scholarly  brain.  lie  himself  could  have  gone  on  produ- 
cing for  ever ;  he  was  never  gravelled  for  lack  of  matter, 
had  no  nice  ideas  about  manner,  and  was  sometimes  sore 
about  the  superior  respectability  of  those  who  had.  But 
here  he  was  on  business,  addressing  people  who  looked 
back  regretfully  from  the  \'ulgarity  of  Misfs  and  Apple- 
bee's  to  the  refinement  of  earlier  periodicals,  and  making  a 
bid  for  their  custom.  A  few  more  sentences  from  his  ad- 
vertisement will  show  how  well  he  understood  their  preju- 
dices : — 

"  The  main  design  of  this  work  is,  to  turn  your  thoughts  a 
little  off  from  the  clamour  of  contending  parties,  which  has 
so  long  surfeited  you  with  their  ill-timed  politics,  and  restore 
your  taste  to  things  truly  superior  and  sul)lime. 

"In  order  to  this,  we  shall  eudcavour  to  present  you  with 
such  subjects  as  are  capable,  if  well  handled,  J)oth  to  divert 
and  to  instruct  you ;  such  as  shall  render  conversation  pleas- 
ant, and  help  to  make  mankind  agreeable  to  one  another. 


128  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

"  As  for  our  management  of  them,  not  to  promise  too  much 
for  ourselves,  we  shall  only  say  we  hope,  at  least,  to  make  our 
work  acceptable  to  everybody,  because  we  resolve,  if  possi- 
ble, to  displease  nobody. 

*'  We  assure  the  world,  by  way  of  negative,  that  we  shall 
engage  in  no  quarrels,  meddle  with  no  parties,  deal  in  no  scan- 
dal, nor  endeavour  to  make  any  men  merry  at  the  expense  of 
their  neighbours.  In  a  word,  we  shall  set  nobody  together 
by  the  ears.  And  though  we  have  encouraged  the  ingenious 
world  to  correspond  with  us  by  letters,  we  hope  they  will  not 
take  it  ill,  that  we  say  beforehand,  no  letters  will  be  taken 
notice  of  by  us  which  contain  any  personal  reproaches,  inter- 
meddle with  family  breaches,  or  tend  to  scandal  or  indecency 
of  any  kind. 

"The  current  papers  are  more  than  sufficient  to  carry  on  all 
the  dirty  work  the  town  can  have  for  them  to  do ;  and  what 
with  party  strife,  politics,  poetic  quarrels,  and  all  the  other 
consequences  of  a  wrangling  age,  they  are  in  no  danger  of 
wanting  employment ;  and  those  readers  who  delight  in  such 
things,  may  divert  themselves  there.  But  our  views,  as  is 
said  above,  lie  another  way." 

Good  writing  is  what  Defoe  promises  the  readers  of 
the  Universal  Spectator,  and  this  leads  him  to  consider 
what  particular  qualifications  go  to  the  composition,  or,  in 
a  word,  "  what  is  required  to  denominate  a  man  a  good 
roi'itery  His  definition  is  worth  quoting  as  a  statement 
of  his  principles  of  composition. 

"  One  says  this  is  a  polite  author;  another  says,  that  is  an 
excellent  good  ioriier;  and  generally  we  find  some  oblique 
strokes  pointed  sideways  at  themselves ;  intimating  that 
whether  we  think  fit  to  allow  it  or  not,  they  take  themselves 
to  be  very  good  writers.  And,  indeed,  I  must  excuse  them 
their  vanity  ;  for  if  a  poor  author  had  not  some  good  opinion 
of  himself,  especially  when  under  the  discouragement  of  hav- 


vm.]  LATER  JOURNALISTIC  LABOURS.  129 

ing  nobody  else  to  be  of  his  mind,  he  would  never  write  at 
all;  nay,  he  could  not;  it  would  take  off  all  the  little  dull 
edge  that  his  pen  might  have  on  it  before,  imd  he  would  not 
be  able  to  say  one  word  to  the  purpose. 

"  Now  whatever  may  be  the  lot  of  this  paper,  be  that  as 
common  fame  shall  direct,  yet  without  entering  into  the 
enquiry  who  writes  better,  or  who  writes  worse,  I  shall  lay 
down  one  specific,  by  which  you  that  read  shall  impartially 
determine  who  are,  or  are  not,  to  be  called  good  writers.  In  a 
word,  the  character  of  a  good  writer,  wherever  he  is  to  bo 
found,  is  this,  viz.,  that  he  writes  so  as  to  please  and  serve  at 
the  same  time. 

"  If  he  writes  to  please,  and  not  to  serve,  he  is  a  flatterer  and 
a  hypocrite ;  if  to  ser^e  and  not  to  j)lease,  he  turns  cynic  and 
satirist.  The  first  deals  in  smooth  falsehood,  the  last  in 
rough  scandal ;  the  last  may  do  some  good,  though  little ; 
the  first  does  no  good,  and  may  do  mischief,  not  a  little ;  the 
last  provokes  your  rage,  the  first  provokes  your  pride  ;  and  in 
a  word  either  of  them  is  hurtful  rather  than  useful.  But  the 
writer  that  strives  to  be  useful,  writes  to  serve  you,  and  at 
the  same  time,  by  an  imperceptible  art,  draws  you  on  to  be 
pleased  also.  He  represents  truth  with  plainness,  virtue  with 
praise;  he  even  reprehends  with  a  softness  that  carries  the 
force  of  a  satire  without  the  salt  of  it ;  and  he  insensibly 
screws  himself  into  your  good  opinion,  that  as  his  writings 
merit  your  regard,  so  they  fail  not  to  obtain  it. 
^'  This  is  part  of  the  character  by  which  I  define  a  good 
writer ;  I  say  "tis  but  part  of  it,  for  it  not  a  half  sheet  that 
would  contain  the  full  description;  a  large  volume  would 
aardly  suffice  it.  His  fame  requires,  indeed,  a  very  good 
;vritcr  to  give  it  due  praise ;  and  for  that  reason  (and  a  good 
•eason  too)  I  go  no  farther  with  it." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    PLACE    OF    DEFOe's    FICTIONS    IN    HIS    LIFE. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  have  thought  of  Defoe  only  as 
a  writer  of  stories  which  young  and  old  still  love  to  read, 
must  not  be  surprised  that  so  few  pages  of  this  little  book 
should  be  left  for  an  account  of  his  work  in  that  field. 
No  doubt  Defoe's  chief  claim  to  the  world's  interest  is 
that  he  is  the  author  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  But  there  is 
little  to  be  said  about  this  or  any  other  of  Defoe's  tales 
in  themselves.  Their  art  is  simple,  unique,  incommunica- 
ble, and  they  are  too  well  known  to  need  description.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  much  that  is  worth  knowing  and 
not  generally  known  about  the  relation  of  these  works  to 
his  life,  and  the  place  that  they  occupy  in  the  sum  total  of 
his  literary  activity.  Hundreds  of  thousands  since  Defoe's 
death,  and  millions  in  ages  to  come,  would  never  have 
heard  his  name  but  for  Robinson  Crusoe.  To  his  contem- 
poraries the  publication  of  that  work  was  but  a  small  in- 
cident in  a  career  which  for  twenty  years  had  claimed  and 
held  their  interest.  People  in  these  days  are  apt  to  im- 
agine, because  Defoe  wrote  the  most  fascinating  of  books 
for  children,  that  he  was  himself  simple,  child-like,  frank, 
open,  and  unsuspecting.  He  has  been  so  described  by 
more  than  one  historian  of  literature.  It  was  not  so  that 
he  appeared  to  his  contemporaries,  and  it  is  not  so  that 


cuAP.K.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  HIS  LIFK       131 

he  can  r.ppcav  to  us  when  we  know  his  life,  unless  wo  rec- 
ognise that  he  took  a  child's  delight  in  beating  with  their 
own  weapons  the  most  astute  intriguers  in  the  most  in- 
triguing period  of  English  history. 

Defoe  was  essentially  a  journalist.  He  wrote  for  the 
day,  and  for  the  greatest  interest  of  the  greatest  number 
of  the  day.  He  always  had  some  ship  sailing  with  the 
passing  breeze,  and  laden  with  a  useful  cargo  for  the  coast 
upon  which  the  wind  chanced  to  be  blowing.  If  the 
Tichborne  trial  had  happened  in  his  time,  we  should  cer- 
tainly have  had  from  him  an  exact  history  of  the  boyhood 
and  surprising  adventures  of  Thomas  Castro,  commonly 
known  as  Sir  Roger,  which  would  have  come  down  to  us 
as  a  true  record,  taken,  perhaps,  by  the  chaplain  of  Port- 
land prison  from  the  convict's  own  lips.  It  would  have 
had  such  an  air  of  authenticity,  and  would  have  been  cor- 
roborated by  such  an  array  of  trustworthy  witnesses,  that 
nobody  in  later  times  could  have  doubted  its  truth.  De- 
foe always  wrote  what  a  large  number  of  people  were  m 
a  mood  to  read.  All  his  writings,  with  so  few  excep- 
tions that  they  may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  fall  within 
the  category,  were  pieces  de  circonstance.  Whenever  any 
distinguished  person  died  or  otherwise  engaged  public  at- 
tention, no  matter  how  distinguished,  whether  as  a  politi 
cian,  a  criminal,  or  a  divine,  Defoe  lost  no  time  in  bring- 
ing out  a  biography.  It  was  in  such  emergencies  that  ho 
produced  his  memoirs  of  Charles  XII.,  Peter  the  Great, 
Count  Patkul,  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  Baron  de  Goertz, 
the  Rev.  Daniel  Williams,  Captain  Avery  the  King  of  the 
Pirates,  Dominique  Cartouche,  Rob  Roy,  Jonathan  Wild, 
Jack  Sheppard,  Duncan  Campbell.  When  the  day  had 
been  fixed  for  the  Earl  of  Oxford's  trial  for  high  treason, 
Defoe  issued  the  fictitious  Minutes  of  the  Secret  Negotior 


132  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap, 

tions  of  Mons.  Mesnager  at  the  English  Court  during  hia 
ministry.  We  owe  the  Journal  of  the  Plague  in  1665  to 
a  visitation  which  fell  upon  France  in  1721,  and  caused 
much  apprehension  in  England.  The  germ  which  in  his 
fertile  mind  grew  into  Robinson  Crusoe  fell  from  the  real 
adventures  of  Alexander  Selkirk,  whose  solitary  residence 
of  four  years  on  the  island  of  Juan  Fernandez  was  a  nine 
days'  wonder  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne.  Defoe  was  too 
busy  with  his  politics  at  the  moment  to  turn  it  to  account ; 
it  was  recalled  to  him  later  on,  in  the  year  1V19,  when  the 
exploits  of  famous  pirates  had  given  a  vivid  interest  to  the 
chances  of  adventurers  in  far-away  islands  on  the  Amer- 
ican and  African  coasts.  The  Life,  Adventures,  and  Pi- 
racies of  the  famous  Captain  Singleton,  who  was  set  on 
shore  in  Madagascar,  traversed  the  continent  of  Africa 
from  east  to  west  past  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  and  went 
roving  again  in  the  company  of  the  famous  Captain  Avery, 
was  produced  to  satisfy  the  same  demand.  Such  biogra- 
phies as  those  of  Moll  Flanders  and  the  Lady  Roxana 
were  of  a  kind,  as  he  himself  illustrated  by  an  amusing 
anecdote,  that  interested  all  times  and  all  professions  and 
degrees ;  but  we  have  seen  to  what  accident  he  owed  their 
suggestion  and  probably  part  of  their  materials.  He  had 
tested  the  market  for  such  wares  in  his  Journals  of  Society. 
In  following  Defoe's  career,  we  are  constantly  remind- 
ed that  he  was  a  man  of  business,  and  practised  the  pro- 
fession of  letters  with  a  shrewd  eye  to  the  main  chance. 
He  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  practising  it  with  any  other  ob- 
ject, though  he  had  aspirations  after  immortal  fame  as 
much  as  any  of  his  more  decorous  contemporaries.  Like 
Thomas  Fuller,  he  frankly  avowed  that  he  wrote  "for 
some  honest  profit  to  himself."  Did  any  man,  he  asked, 
do  anything  without  some  regard  to  his  own  advantage? 


ix.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTION'S  IN  HIS  LIFE.  13S 

Wlienever  be  hit  upon  a  profitable  vein,  he  worked  it  to 
exhaustion,  puttino;  the  ore  into  various  shapes  to  attract 
different  purchasers.  Robinson  Crusoe  made  a  sensation ; 
he  immediatoly  followed  up  the  original  story  with  a  Sec- 
ond Part,  and  the  Second  Part  with  a  volume  of  Serious 
Reflections  He  had  discovered  the  keenness  of  the  public 
appetite  for  stories  of  the  supernatural,  in  1706,  by  means 
of  his  True  Relation  of  the  Apparition  of  one  Mrs.  Veal.' 
When,  in  1720,  he  undertook  to  write  the  life  of  the  pop- 
ular fortune-teller,  Duncan  Campbell — a  puff  which  illus 
trates  almost  better  than  anything  else  Defoe's  extraordi- 
nary ingenuity  in  putting  a  respectable  face  upon  the  most 
disreputable  materials — he  had  another  proof  of  the  avid- 
ity with  which  people  run  to  hear  marvels.  He  followed 
up  this  clue  with  A  System  of  Magic,  or  a  History  of  the 
Black  Art ;  The  Secrets  of  the  Invisible  World  disclosed, 
or  a  Universal  History  of  Apparitions ;  and  a  humorous 
History  of  the  Devil,  in  which  last  work  he  subjected  Par- 
adise Lost,  to  which  Addison  had  drawn  attention  by  his 
papers  in  the  Spectator,  to  very  sharp  criticism.  In  his 
books  and  pamphlets  on  the  Behaviour  of  Servants,  and 
his  works  of  more  formal  instruction,  the  Family  Instruc- 
tor, the  Plan  of  English  Commerce,  the  Complete  English 
Tradesman,  the    Complete   English    Gentleman   (his   last 

•  Mr.  Lee  has  disposed  conclusively  of  the  myth  that  this  tale  was 
written  to  promote  the  sale  of  a  dull  book  by  one  Drelincourt  on  the 
Fear  of  Death,  which  Mrs.  Veal's  ghost  earnestly  recommended  her 
friend  to  read.  It  was  first  published  separately  as  a  pamphlet  with- 
out any  reference  to  Drelincourt.  It  was  not  printed  with  Drelin- 
court's  Fear  of  Death  till  the  fourth  edition  of  that  work,  which  waa 
already  popular.  Further,  the  sale  of  Drelincourt  docs  not  appear  to 
have  been  increased  by  the  addition  of  Defoe's  pamphlet  to  the  book, 
and  of  Mrs.  Veal'a  recommendation  to  the  pamphlet 


184  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

work,  left  unfinished  and  unpublished),  he  wrote  with  a 
similar  regard  to  what  was  for  the  moment  in  demand. 

Defoe's  novel  -  writing  thus  grew  naturally  out  of  his 
general  literary  trade,  and  had  not  a  little  in  common  with 
the  rest  of  his  abundant  stock.  All  his  productions  in 
this  line,  his  masterpiece,  Robinson  Crusoe,  as  well  as  what 
Charles  Lamb  calls  his  "  secondary  novels,"  Captain  Single- 
ton, Colonel  Jack,  Moll  Flanders,  and  Roxana,  were  manu- 
factured from  material  for  which  he  had  ascertained  that 
there  was  a  market ;  the  only  novelty  lay  in  the  mode  of 
preparation.  From  writing  biographies  with  real  names 
attached  to  them,  it  was  but  a  short  step  to  writmg  biog- 
raphies with  fictitious  names.  Defoe  is  sometimes  spoken 
of  as  the  inventor  of  the  realistic  novel ;  realistic  biogra- 
phy would,  perhaps,  be  a  more  strictly  accurate  descrip- 
tion. Looking  at  the  character  of  his  professed  records 
of  fact,  it  seems  strange  that  he  should  ever  have  thought 
of  writing  the  lives  of  imaginary  heroes,  and  should  not 
have  remained  content  with  "  forging  stories  and  imposing 
them  on  the  world  for  truth  "  about  famous  and  notorious 
persons  in  real  life.  The  purveyors  of  news  in  those  days 
could  use  without  fear  of  detection  a  licence  which  would 
not  be  tolerated  now.  They  could  not,  indeed,  satisfy  the 
public  appetite  for  news  without  taking  liberties  with  the 
truth.  They  had  not  special  correspondents  in  all  parts 
of  the  world,  to  fill  their  pages  with  reports  from  the 
spot  of  things  seen  and  heard.  The  public  had  acquired 
the  habit  of  looking  to  the  press,  to  periodical  papers  and 
casual  books  and  pamphlets,  for  information  about  pass- 
ing events  and  prominent  men  before  sufficient  means  had 
been  organized  for  procuring  information  which  should  ap- 
proximate to  correctness.  In  such  circumstances,  the  temp- 
tation  to  invent  and  embellish  was  irresistible.     "  Why," 


rx.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  L\  HIS  LIFE.         I8fl 

a  paragraph-maker  of  the  time  is  made  to  say,  "  if  we  will 
write  nothing:  but  truth,  we  must  bring  yon  no  news;  we 
are  bound  to  bring  you  such  as  we  can  find."  Yet  it  was 
not  lies  but  truth  that  the  public  wanted  as  much  as  they 
do  now.  Hence  arose  the  necessity  of  fortifying  reports 
with  circumstantial  evidence  of  their  authenticity.  No- 
body rebuked  unprincipled  news -writers  more  strongly 
than  Defoe,  and  no  news-writer  was  half  as  copious  in  his 
guarantees  for  the  accuracy  of  his  information.  When  a 
report  reached  England  that  the  island  of  St.  Vincent  had 
been  blown  into  the  air,  Defoe  wrote  a  description  of  the 
calamity,  the  most  astonishing  thing  that  had  happened  in 
the  world  "  since  the  Creation,  or  at  least  since  the  de- 
struction of  the  earth  by  water  in  the  general  Deluge,"  and 
prefaced  his  description  by  saying : — 

"  Our  accounts  of  this  come  from  so  many  several  hands 
and  several  places  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  bring  the 
letters  all  separately  into  this  journal;  and  when  we  had 
done  so  or  attempted  to  do  so,  would  leave  the  story  con- 
fused, and  the  world  not  perfectly  informed.  We  have  there- 
fore thought  it  better  to  give  the  substance  of  this  amazing 
accident  in  one  collection ;  making  together  as  full  and  as 
distinct  an  account  of  the  whole  as  we  believe  it  possible  to 
come  at  by  any  intelligence  whatsoever,  and  at  the  close  of 
this  account  we  shall  give  some  probable  guesses  at  the  nat- 
ural cause  of  so  terrible  an  operation." 

Defoe  carried  the  same  system  of  vouching  for  the 
truth  of  his  narratives  by  referring  them  to  likely  sources, 
into  pamphlets  and  books  which  really  served  the  purpose 
of  newspapers,  being  written  for  the  gratification  of  pass- 
ing interests.  The  History  of  the  Wars  of  Charles  XH., 
which  Mr.  Lee  ascribes  to  him,  was  "  wntten  by  a  Scot's 
gentleman,  in  the  Swedish  service."     The  short  narratiTe 


186  DAXIEL  DEPOE.  [chap. 

of  the  life  and  death  of  Count  Patkul  was  "  written  by 
the  Lutheran  Minister  who  assisted  him  in  his  last  hours, 
and  faithfully  translated  out  of  a  High  Dutch  manuscript." 
M.  Mesnager's  minutes  of  his  negotiations  were  "  written 
by  himself,"  and  "  done  out  of  French."  Defoe  knew  that 
the  public  would  read  such  narratives  more  eagerly  if  they 
believed  them  to  be  true,  and  ascribed  them  to  authors 
whose  position  entitled  them  to  confidence.  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  he  drew  upon  his  imagination  for  more 
than  the  title-pages.  But  why,  when  he  had  so  many  emi- 
nent and  notorious  persons  to  serve  as  his  subjects,  with 
all  the  advantage  of  bearing  names  about  which  the  public 
were  already  curious,  did  he  turn  to  the  adventures  of  new 
and  fictitious  heroes  and  heroines?  One  can  only  sup- 
pose that  he  was  attracted  by  the  greater  freedom  of  move- 
ment in  pure  invention  ;  he  made  the  venture  with  Robin- 
son Crusoe,  it  was  successful,  and  he  repeated  it.  But  af- 
ter the  success  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  he  by  no  means  aban- 
doned his  old  fields.  It  was  after  this  that  he  produced 
autobiographies  and  other  prima  facie  authentic  lives  of 
notorious  thieves  and  pirates.  With  all  his  records  of 
heroes,  real  or  fictitious,  he  practised  the  same  devices  for 
ensuring  credibility.  In  all  alike  he  took  for  granted  that 
the  first  question  people  would  ask  about  a  story  was 
whether  it  was  true.  The  novel,  it  must  be  remembered, 
was  then  in  its  infancy,  and  Defoe,  as  we  shall  presently 
see,  imagined,  probably  not  without  good  reason,  that  his 
readers  would  disapprove  of  story-telling  for  the  mere  pleas- 
ure of  the  thing,  as  an  immorality. 

In  writing  for  the  entertainment  of  his  own  time,  Defoe 
took  the  surest  way  of  writing  for  the  entertainment  of 
all  time.  Yet  if  he  had  never  chanced  to  write  Robinson 
Crusoe,  he  would  now  have  a  very  obscure  place  in  English 


IX.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  L\  HIS  LIFE.  1.17 

literature.  His  "natural  infirmity  of  homely  plain  writ- 
ing," as  he  humorously  described  it,  might  have  drawn 
students  to  his  works,  but  they  ran  considerable  risk  of  ly- 
ing in  utter  oblivion.  He  was  at  war  with  the  whole  guild 
of  respectable  writers  who  have  become  classics ;  they  de- 
spised him  as  an  illiterate  fellow,  a  vulgar  huckster,  and 
never  alluded  to  him  except  in  terms  of  contempt.  He 
was  not  slow  to  retort  their  civilities;  but  the  retorts  might 
very  easily  have  sunk  beneath  the  waters,  while  the  assaults 
were  preserved  by  their  mutual  support.  The  vast  mass 
of  Defoe's  writings  received  no  kindly  aid  from  distin- 
guished contemporaries  to  float  them  down  the  stream; 
everything  was  done  that  bitter  dislike  and  supercilious 
indilference  could  do  to  submerge  them.  Hobinson  Cru- 
soe was  their  sole  life-buoy. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  vitality  of 
Hobinson  Crusoe  is  a  happy  accident,  and  that  others  of 
Defoe's  tales  have  as  much  claim  in  point  of  merit  to  per- 
manence. Hobinson  Crusoe  has  lived  longest,  because  it 
lives  most,  because  it  was  detached  as  it  were  from  its  own 
time  and  organized  for  separate  existence.  It  is  the  only 
one  of  Defoe's  tales  that  shows  what  he  could  do  as  an 
artist.  We  might  have  seen  from  the  others  that  he  had 
the  genius  of  a  great  artist ;  here  we  have  the  possibility 
realized,  the  convincing  proof  of  accomplished  work.  Moll 
Flanders  is  in  some  respects  superior  as  a  novel.  Moll  is 
a  much  more  complicated  character  than  the  simple,  open- 
minded,  manly  mariner  of  York ;  a  strangely  mixed  com- 
pound of  craft  and  impulse,  selfishness  and  generosity — 
in  short,  a  thoroughly  bad  woman,  made  bad  by  circum- 
stances. In  tracing  the  vigilant  resolution  with  which  she 
plays  upon  human  weakness,  the  spasms  of  compunction 
which  shoot  across  her  wily  designs,  the  selfish  after- 
K  7 


188  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

thoughts  which  paralyse  her  generous  impulses,  her  fits  of 
dare-devil  courage  and  uncontrollable  panic,  and  the  steady 
current  of  good-httmoured  satisfaction  with  herself  which 
makes  her  chuckle  equally  over  mishaps  and  successes,  De- 
foe has  gone  much  more  deeply  into  the  springs  of  action, 
and  &ketched  a  much  richer  page  in  the  natural  history  of 
his  species  than  in  Robinson  Crusoe.  True,  it  is  a  more 
repulsive  page,  but  that  is  not  the  only  reason  why  it  has 
fallen  into  comparative  oblivion,  and  exists  now  only  as  a 
parasite  upon  the  more  popular  work.  It  is  not  equal- 
ly well  constructed  for  the  struggle  of  existence  among 
books.  No  book  can  live  for  ever  which  is  not  firmly  or- 
ganized round  some  central  principle  of  life,  and  that  prin- 
ciple in  itself  imperishable.  It  must  have  a  heart  and 
members;  the  members  must  be  soundly  compacted  and 
the  heart  superior  to  decay.  Compared  with  Robinson 
Crusoe,  Moll  Flanders  is  only  a  string  of  diverting  inci- 
dents, the  lowest  type  of  book  organism,  very  brilliant 
while  it  is  fresh  and  new,  but  not  qualified  to  survive  com- 
petitors for  the  world's  interest.  There  is  no  unique  crea- 
tive purpose  in  it  to  bind  the  whole  together ;  it  might  be 
cut  into  pieces,  each  capable  of  wriggling  amusingly  by  it- 
self. The  gradual  corruption  of  the  heroine's  virtue,  which 
is  the  encompassing  scheme  of  the  tale,  is  too  thin  as  well 
as  too  common  an  artistic  envelope ;  the  incidents  burst 
through  it  at  so  many  points  that  it  becomes  a  shapeless 
mass.  But  in  Robinson  Crusoe  we  have  real  growth  from 
a  vigorous  germ.  The  central  idea  round  which  the  tale 
is  organized,  the  position  of  a  man  cast  ashore  on  a  desert 
island,  abandoned  to  his  own  resources,  suddenly  shot  be- 
yond help  or  counsel  from  his  fellow-creatures,  is  one  that 
must  live  as  long  as  the  uncertainty  of  human  life. 

The  germ  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  the  actual  experience  of 


IX.]  PLACE  OF  DKFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN   MIS  LIFE.  1S9 

Alexander  Selkirk,  went  floating  about  for  several  years, 
and  more  tban  one  artist  dallied  with  it,  till  it  finally  set- 
tled and  took  root  in  the  mind  of  the  one  man  of  his  gen- 
eration most  capable  of  giving  it  a  home  and  working  out 
its  artistic  possibilities.  Defoe  was  the  only  man  of  letters 
in  his  time  who  might  have  been  thrown  on  a  desert  island 
without  finding  himself  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  The  art  re- 
quired for  developing  the  position  in  imagination  was  not 
of  a  complicated  kind,  and  yet  it  is  one  of  the  rarest  of 
gifts.  Something  more  was  wanted  than  simply  conceiv- 
ing what  a  man  in  such  a  situation  would  probably  feel 
and  probably  do.  Above  all,  it  was  necessary  that  his 
perplexities  should  be  unexpected,  and  his  expedients  for 
meeting  them  unexpected ;  yet  both  perplexities  and  ex- 
pedients so  real  and  life-like  that,  when  we  were  told  them, 
we  should  wonder  we  had  not  thought  of  them  before. 
One  gift  was  indispensable  for  this,  however  many  might 
be  accessory,  the  genius  of  circumstantial  invention — not 
a  very  exalted  order  of  genius,  perhaps,  but  quite  as  rare 
as  any  other  intellectual  prodigy.' 

Defoe  was  fifty-eight  years  old  when  he  wrote  Robinson 
Crusoe.  If  the  invention  of  plausible  circumstances  is  the 
great  secret  in  the  art  of  that  tale,  it  would  have  been  a 
marvellous  thing  if  this  had  been  the  first  instance  of  its 
exercise,  and  it  had  broken  out  suddenly  in  a  man  of  so 
advanced  an  age.  When  we  find  an  artist  of  supreme  ex- 
cellence in  any  craft,  we  generally  find  that  he  has  been 
practising  it  all  his  life.  To  say  that  he  has  a  genius  for 
it,  means  that  he  has  practised  it,  and  concentrated  his 
main  force  upon  it,  and  that  he  has  been  driven  irresisti- 

'  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  seems  to  me  to  underrate  the  rarity  of  this 
peculiar  gift  in  his  brilliant  essay  on  Defoe's  Novels  in  Hours  in  a 
lAirrary. 


140  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

bly  to  do  so  by  sheer  bent  of  nature.  It  was  so  ■with  De- 
foe and  his  power  of  circumstantial  invention,  his  unrival- 
led genius  for  "  lying  like  truth."  For  years  upon  years 
of  his  life  it  had  been  his  chief  occupation.  From  the 
time  of  his  first  connexion  with  Harley,  at  least,  he  had 
addressed  his  countrymen  through  the  press,  and  had  per- 
ambulated the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  in  assumed 
characters  and  on  factitious  pretexts.  His  first  essay  in 
that  way  in  1704,  when  he  left  prison  in  the  service  of  the 
Government,  appealing  to  the  general  compassion  because 
he  was  under  government  displeasure,  was  skilful  enough 
to  suggest  great  native  genius  if  not  extensive  previous 
practice.  There  are  passages  of  circumstantial  invention 
in  the  Review,  as  ingenious  as  anything  in  Robinson  Cru- 
soe; and  the  mere  fact  that  at  the  end  of  ten  years  of 
secret  service  under  successive  Governments,  and  in  spite 
of  a  widespread  opinion  of  his  untrustworthiness,  he  was 
able  to  pass  himself  off  for  ten  years  more  as  a  Tory  with 
Tories  and  with  the  Whig  Government  as  a  loyal  servant, 
is  a  proof  of  sustained  ingenuity  of  invention  greater  than 
many  volumes  of  fiction. 

Looking  at  Defoe's  private  life,  it  is  not  difficult  to  un- 
derstand the  peculiar  fascination  which  such  a  problem  as 
he  solved  in  Robinson  Crusoe  must  have  had  for  him.  It 
was  not  merely  that  he  had  passed  a  life  of  uncertainty, 
often  on  the  verge  of  precipices,  and  often  saved  from  ruin 
by  a  buoyant  energy  which  seems  almost  miraculous ;  not 
merely  that,  as  he  said  of  himself  in  one  of  his  diplomatic 
appeals  for  commiseration, 

"  No  man  hath  tasted  differing  fortunes  more. 
For  thirteen  times  have  I  been  rich  and  poor." 

But  when  he  wrote  Robinson  Crusoe,  it  was  one  of  the 


IX.]         PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  HIS  LIFE.  Ill 

actual  chances  of  his  life,  and  by  no  moans  a  remote  one, 
that  he  might  be  cast  all  alone  on  an  uninhabited  island. 
We  see  from  his  letters  to  De  la  Faye  how  fcarfnl  ho 
was  of  having  "  mistakes  "  laid  to  his  charge  by  the  Gov- 
ernment in  the  course  of  his  secret  services.  His  former 
changes  of  party  had  exposed  him,  as  he  well  knew,  to  sus- 
picion. A  false  step,  a  misunderstood  paragraph,  might 
have  had  ruinous  consequences  for  him.  If  the  Govern- 
ment had  prosecuted  him  for  writing  anything  offensive 
to  them,  refusing  to  believe  that  it  was  put  in  to  amuse 
the  Tories,  transportation  might  very  easily  have  been  the 
penalty.  He  had  made  so  many  enemies  in  the  Press 
that  he  might  have  been  transported  without  a  voice  be- 
ing raised  in  his  favour,  and  the  mob  would  not  have  in- 
terfered to  save  a  Government  spy  from  the  Plantations. 
Shipwreck  among  the  islands  of  the  West  Indies  was  a 
possibility  that  stood  not  far  from  his  own  door,  as  he 
looked  forward  into  the  unknown,  and  prepared  his  mind, 
as  men  in  dangerous  situations  do,  for  the  worst.  When 
he  drew  up  for  Moll  Flanders  and  her  husband  a  list  of 
the  things  necessary  for  starting  life  in  a  new  country,  or 
when  he  described  Colonel  Jack's  management  of  his  plan- 
tation in  Virginia,  the  subject  was  one  of  more  than  gen- 
eral curiosity  to  him ;  and  when  he  exercised  his  imagina- 
tion upon  the  fate  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  he  was  contemplat- 
ing a  fate  which  a  few  movements  of  the  wheel  of  Fortune 
might  make  his  own. 

But  whatever  it  was  that  made  the  germ  idea  of  Robin- 
son Crusoe  take  root  in  Defoe's  mind,  he  worked  it  out  as 
an  artist.  Artists  of  a  more  emotional  type  might  have 
drawn  much  more  elaborate  and  affecting  word -pictures 
of  the  mariner's  feelings  in  various  trying  situations,  gone 
much  deeper  into  his  changing  moods,  and  shaken  our 


142  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

souls  with  pity  and  terror  over  the  solitary  castaway's 
alarms  and  fits  of  despair.  Defoe's  aims  lay  another  way. 
His  Crusoe  is  not  a  man  given  to  the  luxury  of  grieving. 
If  he  had  begun  to  pity  himself,  he  would  have  been  un- 
done. Perhaps  Defoe's  imaginative  force  was  not  of  a 
kind  that  could  have  done  justice  to  the  agonies  of  a  ship- 
wrecked sentimentalist ;  he  has  left  no  proof  that  it  was ; 
but  if  he  had  represented  Crusoe  bemoaning  his  misfort- 
unes, brooding  over  his  fears,  or  sighing  with  Ossianic  sor- 
row over  his  lost  companions  and  friends,  he  would  have 
spoiled  the  consistency  of  the  character.  The  lonely  man 
had  his  moments  of  panic  and  his  days  of  dejection,  but 
they  did  not  dwell  in  his  memory.  Defoe  no  doubt  fol- 
lowed his  own  natural  bent,  but  he  also  showed  true  art 
in  confining  Crusoe's  recollections  as  closely  as  he  does  to 
his  efforts  to  extricate  himself  from  difliculties  that  would 
have  overwhelmed  a  man  of  softer  temperament.  The 
subject  had  fascinated  him,  and  he  found  enough  in  it  to 
engross  his  powers  without  travelling  beyond  its  limits  for 
diverting  episodes,  as  he  does  more  or  less  in  all  the  rest 
of  his  tales.  The  diverting  episodes  in  Robinson  Crusoe 
all  help  the  verisimilitude  of  the  story. 

When,  however,  the  ingenious  inventor  had  completed 
the  story  artistically,  carried  us  through  all  the  outcast's 
anxieties  and  efforts,  and  shown  him  triumphant  over  all 
difficulties,  prosperous,  and  again  in  communication  with 
the  outer  world,  the  spirit  of  the  iterary  trader  would  not 
let  the  finished  work  alone.  The  story,  as  a  work  of  art, 
ends  with  Crusoe's  departure  from  the  island,  or  at  any 
rate  with  his  return  to  England.  Its  unity  is  then  com- 
plete. But  Robinson  Crusoe  at  once  became  a  popular 
hero,  and  Defoe  was  too  keen  a  man  of  business  to  miss 
the  chance  of  further  profit  from  so  lucrative  a  vein.     He 


IX.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IX  HIS  LIFE.  1 1:: 

did  not  mind  the  sneers  of  hostile  critics.  Tlioy  made  mer- 
ry over  the  trilling  inconsistencies  in  the  tale.  How,  for 
example,  they  asked,  could  Crusoe  liave  stuffed  his  pockets 
with  biscuits  when  he  had  taken  off  all  his  clothes  before 
swimming  to  the  wreck  ?  How  could  he  have  been  at 
such  a  loss  for  clothes  after  those  he  had  put  off  were 
washed  away  by  the  rising  tide,  when  he  had  the  ship's 
stores  to  choose  from  ?  How  could  he  have  seen  the 
goat's  eyes  in  the  cave  when  it  was  pitch  dark?  How 
could  the  Spaniards  give  Friday's  father  an  agreement  in 
writing,  when  they  had  neither  paper  nor  ink?  How  did 
Friday  come  to  know  so  intimately  the  habits  of  bears, 
the  bear  not  being  a  denizen  of  the  West  Indian  islands? 
On  the  ground  of  these  and  such-like  trifles,  one  critic  de- 
clared that  the  book  seems  calculated  for  the  mob,  and 
will  not  bear  the  eye  of  a  rational  reader,  and  that  "  all 
but  the  very  canaille  are  satisfied  of  the  worthlessness  of 
the  performance."  Defoe,  we  may  .suppose,  was  not  much 
moved  by  these  strictures,  as  edition  after  edition  of  the 
work  was  demanded.  He  corrected  one  or  two  little  inac- 
curacies, and  at  once  set  about  writing  a  Second  Part,  and 
a  volume  of  Serious  Reflections  which  had  occurred  to 
Crusoe  amidst  his  adventures.  These  were  purely  com- 
mercial excrescences  upon  the  original  work.  They  were 
popular  enough  at  the  time,  but  those  who  are  tempted 
now  to  accompany  Crusoe  in  his  second  visit  to  his  island 
and  his  enterprising  travels  in  the  East,  agree  that  the  Sec- 
ond Part  is  of  inferior  interest  to  the  first,  and  very  few 
now  read  the  Serious  Reflections. 

The  Serious  Reflections,  however,  are  well  worth  reading 
in  connexion  with  the  author's  personal  history.  In  the 
preface  we  are  told  that  Robinson  Crusoe  is  an  allegory, 
and  in  one  of  the  chapters  we  are  told  why  it  is  an  allc- 


144  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

(?ory.  The  explanation  is  given  in  a  homily  against  the 
vice  of  talking  falsely.  By  talking  falsely  the  moralist 
explains  that  he  does  not  mean  telling  lies,  that  is,  false- 
hoods concocted  with  an  evil  object ;  these  he  puts  aside 
as  sins  altogether  beyond  the  pale  of  discussion.  But 
there  is  a  minor  vice  of  falsehood  which  he  considers  it 
his  duty  to  reprove,  namely,  telling  stories,  as  too  many 
people  do,  merely  to  amuse.  "  This  supplying  a  story  by 
invention,"  he  says,  "  is  certainly  a  most  scandalous  crime, 
and  yet  very  little  regarded  in  that  part.  It  is  a  sort  of 
lying  that  makes  a  great  hole  in  the  heart,  in  which  by 
degrees  a  habit  of  lying  enters  in.  Such  a  man  comes 
quickly  up  to  a  total  disregarding  the  truth  of  what  he 
says,  looking  upon  it  as  a  trifle,  a  thing  of  no  import, 
whether  any  story  he  tells  be  true  or  not."  How  empty 
a  satisfaction  is  this  "  purchased  at  so  great  an  expense 
as  that  of  conscience,  and  of  a  dishonour  done  to  truth  !" 
And  the  crime  is  so  entirely  objectless.  A  man  who  tells 
a  lie,  properly  so  called,  has  some  hope  of  reward  by  it. 
But  to  lie  for  sport  is  to  play  at  shuttlecock  with  your 
soul,  and  load  your  conscience  for  the  mere  sake  of  being 
a  fool.  "  With  what  temper  should  I  speak  of  those  peo- 
ple ?  What  words  can  express  the  meanness  and  baseness 
of  the  mind  that  can  do  this?"  In  making  this  protest 
against  frivolous  story-telling,  the  humour  of  which  must 
have  been  greatly  enjoyed  by  his  journalistic  colleagues, 
Defoe  anticipated  that  his  readers  would  ask  why,  if  he  so 
disapproved  of  the  supplying  a  story  by  invention,  he  had 
written  Robinson  Crusoe.  His  answer  was  that  Robinson 
Crusoe  was  an  allegory,  and  that  the  telling  or  writing  a 
parable  or  an  allusive  allegorical  history  is  quite  a  differ- 
ent case.  "  I,  Robinson  Crusoe,  do  affirm  that  the  story, 
though  allegorical,  is  also   historical,  and  that  it  is  the 


ix.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  UIS  LIFE.  Ur. 

beautiful  representation  of  a  lifo  of  unexampled  misfort- 
unes, and  of  a  variety  not  to  be  met  with  in  this  workl." 
This  life  was  his  own.  He  explains  at  some  length  the 
particulars  of  the  allegory  : — 

"  Thus  the  fright  and  laucies  which  succeedod  the  story 
of  the  print  of  a  man's  foot,  and  surprise  of  the  oUl  goat,  and 
the  thing  rolling  on  my  bed,  and  my  jumping  up  in  a  fright, 
are  all  histories  and  real  stories ;  as  are  likewise  the  dream 
of  being  taken  by  messengers,  being  arrested  by  officers,  the 
manner  of  being  driven  on  shore  by  the  surge  of  the  sea,  the 
sliip  on  fire,  the  description  of  starving,  the  story  of  my  man 
Friday,  and  many  more  most  natural  passages  observed  here, 
and  on  which  any  religious  reflections  are  made,  are  all  his- 
torical and  true  in  fact.  It  is  most  real  that  I  had  a  parrot, 
and  taught  it  to  call  me  by  my  name,  such  a  servant  a  savage 
and  afterwards  a  Christian,  and  that  his  name  was  called  Fri- 
day, and  that  he  was  ravished  from  me  by  force,  and  died  in 
the  hands  that  took  him,  which  I  represent  by  being  killed ; 
this  is  all  literally  true;  and  should  I  enter  into  discoveries 
many  alive  can  testify  them.  His  other  conduct  and  assist- 
ance to  me  also  have  just  references  in  all  their  parts  to  the 
helps  I  had  from  that  faithful  savage  in  my  real  solitudes 
and  disasters. 

"  The  story  of  the  bear  in  the  tree,  and  the  fight  with  the 
wolves  in  the  snow,  is  likewise  matter  of  real  history;  and 
in  a  word,  the  adventures  of  Robinson  Crusoe  are  a  whole 
scheme  of  a  life  of  twenty-eight  years  spent  in  the  most  wan- 
dering, desolate,  and  afflicting  circumstances  that  ever  man 
went  through,  and  in  which  I  have  lived  so  long  in  a  life  of 
wonders,  in  continued  storms,  fought  with  the  worst  kind  of 
savages  and  man-eaters,  by  unaccountable  surprising  inci- 
dents ;  fed  by  miracles  greater  than  that  of  the  ravens,  suf- 
fered all  manner  of  violences  and  oppressions,  injurious  re- 
proaches, contempt  of  men,  attacks  of  devils,  corrections  from 
Heaven,  and  oppositions  on  earth  ;  and  had  innumerable  ups 
37  7* 


146  DAJs'IEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

and  downs  in  matters  of  fortune,  been  in  slavery  worse  than 
Turkish,  escaped  by  an  exquisite  management,  as  that  in  the 
story  of  Xury  and  the  boat  of  Sallee,  been  taken  up  at  sea 
in  distress,  raised  again  and  dejjressed  again,  and  that  of- 
tener  perhaps  in  one  man's  life  than  ever  was  known  before ; 
shipwrecked  often,  though  more  by  land  than  by  sea ;  in  a 
word,  there's  not  a  circumstance  in  the  imaginary  story  but 
has  its  just  allusion  to  a  real  story,  and  chimes  part  for 
part,  and  step  for  step,  with  the  inimitable  life  of  Robinson 
Crusoe." 

But  if  Defoe  had  such  a  regard  for  the  sti'ict  and  literal 
truth,  why  did  he  not  tell  his  history  in  his  own  person  ? 
Why  convey  the  facts  allusively  in  an  allegory  ?  To  this 
question  also  he  had  an  answer.  He  wrote  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  mankind,  for  the  purpose  of  recommending  "  in- 
vincible patience  under  the  worst  of  misery ;  indefatigable 
application  and  undaunted  resolution  under  the  greatest 
and  most  discouraging  circumstances." 

"  Had  the  common  way  of  writing  a  man's  private  history 
been  taken,  and  I  had  given  you  the  conduct  or  life  of  a  man 
you  knew,  and  whose  misfortunes  and  infirmities  perhaps 
you  had  sometimes  unjustly  triumphed  over,  all  I  could  have 
said  would  have  yielded  no  diversion,  and  perhaps  scarce 
liave  obtained  a  reading,  or  at  best  no  attention ;  the  teacher, 
like  a  greater,  having  no  honour  in  his  own  country.'' 

For  all  Defoe's  profession  that  Rohinson  Crusoe  is  an 
allegory  of  his  own  life,  it  would  be  rash  to  take  what 
he  says  too  literally.  The  reader  who  goes  to  the  tale  in 
search  of  a  close  allegory,  in  minute  chronological  corre- 
spondence with  the  facts  of  the  alleged  original,  will  find,  I 
expect,  like  myself,  that  he  has  gone  on  a  wild-goose  chase. 
There  is  a  certain  general  correspondence.  Defoe's  own 
life  is  certainly  as  instructive  as  Crusoe's  in  the  lesson  of 


I.T.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IX  lilS  LIFE.  117 

invincible  patience  and  undaunted  resolution.  The  ship- 
wreck perhaps  corresponds  with  his  first  bankruptcy,  with 
which  it  coincides  in  point  of  time,  having  hap[)cnod  just, 
twenty-eight  years  before.  If  Defoe  had  a  real  man  Fri- 
day, who  had  learnt  all  his  arts  till  he  could  practise  tlK-in 
as  well  as  himself,  the  fact  might  go  to  explain  his  enor- 
mous productiveness  as  an  author.  But  I  doubt  whether 
the  allegory  can  be  pushed  into  such  details.  Defoe's 
fancy  was  quick  enough  to  give  an  allegorical  meaning  to 
any  tale.  He  might  have  found  in  Moll  Flanders,  with 
her  five  marriages  and  ultimate  prostitution,  correspond- 
ing to  his  own  five  political  marriages  and  the  dubious  con- 
duct of  his  later  years,  a  closer  allegory  in  some  respects 
than  in  the  life  of  the  shipwrecked  sailor.  The  idea  of 
calling  Robinson  Crusoe  an  allegory  was  in  all  probability 
an  after-thought,  perhaps  suggested  by  a  derisive  parody 
which  had  appeared,  entitled  The  life  and  strange  surpris- 
ing adventures  of  Daniel  de  Foe,  of  London,  Hosier,  who 
lived  all  alone  in  the  uninhabited  island  of  Great  Britain, 
and  so  forth. 

If  we  study  any  writing  of  Defoe's  in  connexion  with 
the  circumstances  of  its  production,  we  find  that  it  is 
manysidcd  in  its  purposes,  as  full  of  side  aims  as  a  nave  is 
full  of  spokes.  These  supplementary  moral  chapters  to 
Robinson  Crusoe,  admirable  as  the  reflections  are  in  them- 
selves, and  naturally  as  they  are  made  to  arise  out  of  the 
incidents  of  the  hero's  life,  contain  more  than  meets  the 
eye  till  we  connect  them  with  the  author's  position.  Call- 
ing the  tale  an  allegory  served  him  in  two  ways.  In  the 
first  place,  it  added  to  the  interest  of  the  tale  itself  by  pre- 
senting it  in  the  light  of  a  riddle,  which  was  loft  but  half- 
revealed,  though  he  declared  after  such  explanation  as  he 
gave  that  "  the  riddle  was  now  expounded,  and  the  intelli- 


148  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

gent  reader  might  see  clearly  the  end  and  design  of  the 
whole  work."  In  the  second  place,  the  allegory  was  such 
an  image  of  his  life  as  he  Avished,  for  good  reasons,  to  im- 
press on  the  public  mind.  He  had  all  along,  as  we  have 
seen,  while  in  the  secret  service  of  successive  governments, 
vehemently  protested  his  independence,  and  called  Heaven 
and  Earth  to  witness  that  he  was  a  poor  struggling,  un- 
fortunate, calumniated  man.  It  was  more  than  ever  neces- 
sary now  when  people  believed  him  to  be  under  the  insu- 
perable displeasure  of  the  Whigs,  and  he  was  really  ren- 
dering them  such  dangerous  service  in  connexion  with  the 
Tory  journals,  that  he  should  convince  the  world  of  his 
misfortunes  and  his  honesty.  The  Serious  Reflections 
consist  mainly  of  meditations  on  Divine  Providence  in 
times  of  trouble,  and  discourses  on  the  supreme  importance 
of  honest  dealing.  They  are  put  into  the  mouth  of  Rob- 
inson Crusoe,  but  the  reader  is  warned  that  they  occurred 
to  the  author  himself  in  the  midst  of  real  incidents  in  his 
own  life.  Knowing  what  public  repute  said  of  him,  he 
does  not  profess  never  to  have  strayed  from  the  paths  of 
virtue,  but  he  implies  that  he  is  sincerely  repentant,  and  is 
now  a  reformed  character.  "  Wild  wicked  Robinson  Cru- 
soe does  not  pretend  to  honesty  himself."  He  acknowl- 
edges his  early  errors.  Not  to  do  so  would  be  a  mistaken 
piece  of  false  bravery.  "All  shame  is  cowardice.  The 
bravest  spirit  is  the  best  qualified  for  a  penitent.  He, 
then,  that  will  be  honest,  must  dare  to  confess  that  he  has 
been  a  knave."  But  the  man  that  has  been  sick  is  half  a 
physician,  and  therefore  he  is  both  well  fitted  to  counsel 
others,  and  being  convinced  of  the  sin  and  folly  of  his 
former  errors,  is  of  all  men  the  least  likely  to  repeat  them. 
Want  of  courage  was  not  a  feature  in  Defoe's  diplomacy. 
He  thus  boldly  described  the  particular  form  of  dishonesty 


IX. J         PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  HIS  LIFE.         149 

with  which,  when  he  wrote  the  description,  he  was  practis- 
ing upon  the  unconscious  Mr.  Mist. 

'•  There  is  an  ugly  word  called  cunning,  which  is  very  per- 
nicious to  it  [honesty],  and  which  particularly  injures  it  l)y 
hiding  it  from  our  discovery  and  making  it  hard  to  tind. 
This  is  so  like  honesty  that  many  a  man  has  been  deceived 
with  it,  and  have  taken  one  for  t'other  in  the  markets:  nay, 
I  have  heard  of  some  who  have  planted  tliis  icild  honesty,  as 
we  may  call  it,  in  their  own  ground,  have  made  use  of  it  in 
their  friendship  and  dealings,  and  thought  it  had  been  the 
true  plant.  But  they  always  lost  credit  by  it,  and  that  was 
not  the  worst  neither,  for  they  had  the  loss  who  dealt  with 
them,  and  w^ho  chaffered  for  a  counterfeit  commodity ;  and 
we  find  many  deceived  so  still,  which  is  the  occasion  there  is 
such  an  outcry  about  false  friends,  and  about  sharping  and 
tricking  in  men's  ordinary  dealings  with  the  world." 

A  master-mind  in  the  art  of  working  a  man,  as  Bacon 
calls  it,  is  surely  apparent  here.  Who  could  have  suspect- 
ed the  moralist  of  concealing  the  sins  he  was  inclined  to, 
by  exposing  and  lamenting  those  very  sins?  There  are 
other  passages  in  the  Serious  Rejlcctions  which  seem  to 
have  been  particularly  intended  for  Mist's  edification.  In 
reflecting  what  a  fine  thing  honesty  is,  Crusoe  expresses 
an  opinion  that  it  is  much  more  common  than  is  general- 
ly supposed,  and  gratefully  recalls  how  often  he  has  met 
with  it  in  his  own  experience.  He  asks  the  reader  to  note 
how  faithfully  he  was  served  by  the  English  sailor's  wid- 
ow, the  Portuguese  captain,  the  boy  Xury,  and  his  man 
Friday.  From  these  allegoric  types.  Mist  might  select  a 
model  for  his  own  behaviour.  When  we  consider  the  tone 
of  these  Serious  Reflections,  so  eminently  pious,  moral, 
and  unpretending,  so  obviously  the  outcome  of  a  wise, 
simple,  ingenuous  nature,  we  can  better  understand  the 


150  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

fury  with  whicli  Mist  turned  upon  Defoe  when  at  last  he 
discovered  his  treachery.  They  are  of  use  also  in  throw- 
ing light  upon  the  prodigious  versatility  which  could  dash 
oS  a  masterpiece  in  fiction,  and,  before  the  printer's  ink 
was  dry,  be  already  at  work  making  it  a  subordinate  in- 
strument in  a  much  wider  and  more  wonderful  scheme  of 
activity,  his  own  restless  life. 

It  is  curious  to  find  among  the  Serious  Reflections  a 
passage  which  may  be  taken  as  an  apology  for  the  prac- 
tices into  which  Defoe,  gradually,  we  may  reasonably  be- 
lieve, allowed  himself  to  fall.  The  substance  of  the  apol- 
ogy has  been  crystallized  into  an  aphorism  by  the  author 
of  Becky  Sharp,  but  it  has  been,  no  doubt,  the  consoling 
philosophy  of  dishonest  persons  not  altogether  devoid  of 
conscience  in  all  ages. 

"Necessity  makes  an  honest  man  a  knave;  and  if  the 
world  was  to  be  the  judge,  according  to  the  common  re- 
ceived notion,  there  would  not  be  an  honest  poor  man  alive. 

"  A  rich  man  is  an  honest  man,  no  thanks  to  him,  for  he 
would  be  a  double  knave  to  cheat  mankind  when  he  had  no 
need  of  it.  He  has  no  occasion  to  prey  upon  his  integrity, 
nor  so  much  as  to  touch  upon  the  borders  of  dishonesty. 
Tell  me  of  a  man  that  is  a  very  honest  man ;  for  he  pays 
everybody  punctually,  runs  into  nobody's  debt,  does  no  man 
any  wrong;  very  well,  what  circumstances  is  he  in?  Why, 
he  has  a  good  estate,  a  fine  yearly  income,  and  no  business  to 
do.  The  Devil  must  have  full  possession  of  this  man,  if  he 
should  be  a  knave ;  for  no  man  commits  evil  for  the  sake  of 
it ;  even  the  Devil  himself  has  some  farther  design  in  sin- 
ning, than  barely  the  wicked  part  of  it.  No  man  is  so  hard- 
ened in  crimes  as  to  commit  them  for  the  mere  pleasure  of 
the  fact ;  there  is  always  some  vice  gratified  ;  ambition,  pride, 
or  avarice  makes  rich  men  knaves,  and  necessity  the  poor." 

This  is  Defoe's  excuse  for  his  backslidings  put  into  the 


IX.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  fflS  LIFK.  U,\ 

mouth  of  Robinson  Cnisoe.  It  might  be  inscribed  also  on 
the  threshold  of  each  of  his  fictitious  biographies.  Col- 
onel Jack,  Moll  Flanders,  Roxana,  arc  not  criminals  from 
malice;  they  do  not  commit  crimes  for  the  mere  pleasure 
of  the  fact.  They  all  believe  that  but  for  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances they  might  have  been  orderly,  contented,  virt- 
uous members  of  society. 

A  Colonel,  a  London  x\.rab,  a  child  of  the  criminal  regi- 
ment, began  to  steal  before  he  knew  that  it  was  not  the 
approved  way  of  making  a  livelihood.  Moll  and  Koxana 
were  overreached  by  acts  against  which  they  were  too 
weak  to  cope.  Even  after  they  were  tempted  into  taking 
the  wrong  turning,  they  did  not  pursue  the  downward 
road  without  compunction.  Many  good  people  might  say 
of  them,  "  There,  but  for  the  grace  of  God,  goes  myself." 
But  it  was  not  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  Baxter  or  a 
Bunyan  that  Defoe  regarded  them,  though  he  credited 
them  with  many  edifying  reflections.  He  was  careful  to 
say  that  he  would  never  have  written  the  stories  of  their 
lives,  if  he  had  not  thought  that  they  would  be  useful  as 
awful  examples  of  the  effects  of  bad  education  and  the 
indulgence  of  restlessness  and  vanity ;  but  he  enters  into 
their  ingenious  shifts  and  successes  with  a  joyous  sympa- 
thy that  would  have  been  impossible  if  their  reckless  ad- 
venturous living  by  their  wits  had  not  had  a  strong  charm 
for  him.  We  often  find  peeping  out  in  Defoe's  writings 
that  roguish  cynicism  which  we  should  expect  in  a  man 
whose  own  life  was  so  far  from  being  straightforward. 
He  was  too  much  dependent  upon  the  public  acceptance 
of  honest  professions  to  be  eager  in  depreciating  the  value 
of  the  article,  but  when  he  found  other  people  protesting 
disinterested  motives,  he  could  not  always  resist  remind- 
ing them  that  they  were  no  more  disinterested  than  tin' 


152  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

Jack- pudding  who  avowed  that  he  cured  diseases  from 
mere  love  of  his  kind.  Having  yielded  to  circumstances 
himself,  and  finding  life  enjoyable  in  dubious  paths,  he 
had  a  certain  animosity  against  those  who  had  maintained 
their  integrity  and  kept  to  the  highroad,  and  a  correspond- 
ing pleasure  in  showing  that  the  motives  of  the  sinner 
were  not  after  all  so  very  different  from  the  motives  of 
the  saint. 

The  aims  in  life  of  Defoe's  thieves  and  pirates  are  at 
bottom  very  little  different  from  the  ambition  which  he 
undertakes  to  direct  in  the  Complete  English  Tradesman. 
and  their  maxims  of  conduct  have  much  in  common  with 
this  ideal.  Self-interest  is  on  the  look-out,  and  Self-reli- 
ance at  the  helm. 

"A  tradesman  behind  his  counter  must  have  no  flesh  and 
blood  about  him,  no  passions,  no  resentment ;  he  must  never 
be  angry — no,  not  so  much  as  seem  to  be  so,  if  a  customer 
tumbles  him  five  hundred  poimds'  worth  of  goods,  and  scarce 
bids  money  for  anything ;  nay,  though  they  really  come  to 
his  shop  with  no  intent  to  buy,  as  many  do,  only  to  see  what 
is  to  be  sold,  and  though  he  knows  they  cannot  be  better 
l>l('ased  than  they  are  at  some  other  shop  where  they  intend 
to  buy,  'tis  all  one ;  the  tradesman  must  take  it,  he  must  place 
it  to  the  account  of  his  calling,  that  'tis  his  business  to  be  ill- 
used,  and  resent  nothing ;  and  so  must  answer  as  obligingly 
to  those  who  give  him  an  hour  or  two's  trouble,  and  buy 
nothing,  as  he  does  to  those  who,  in  half  the  time,  lay  out 
ten  or  twenty  pounds.  The  case  is  plain ;  and  if  some  do 
give  him  trouble,  and  do  not  buy,  others  make  amends  and 
do  buy ;  and  as  for  the  trouble,  'tis  the  business  of  the  shop." 

All  Defoe's  heroes  and  heroines  are  animated  by  this 
practical  spirit,  this  thoroughgoing  subordination  of  means 
to  ends.     When  they  have  an  end  in  \aew,  the  plunder  of 


IX.]  PLACE  OF  DEFOE'S  FICTIONS  IN  HIS  LIFE.         lea 

a  house,  the  capture  of  a  ship,  the  ensnaring  of  a  dupe, 
they  allow  neither  passion,  nor  resentment,  nor  sentiment 
in  any  shape  or  form  to  stand  in  their  v?ay.  Every  other 
consideration  is  put  on  one  side  when  the  business  of  the 
shop  has  to  be  attended  to.  They  are  all  tradesmen  who 
have  strayed  into  unlawful  courses.  They  have  nothing 
about  them  of  the  heroism  of  sin ;  their  crimes  are  not 
the  result  of  ungovernable  passion,  or  even  of  antipathy  to 
conventional  restraints ;  circumstances  and  not  any  law- 
defying  bias  of  disposition  have  made  them  criminals. 
How  is  it  that  the  novelist  contrives  to  make  them  so 
interesting?  Is  it  because  we  are  a  nation  of  shopkeep- 
ers, and  enjoy  following  lines  of  business  which  are  a  lit- 
tle out  of  our  ordinary  routine?  Or  is  it  simply  that  he 
makes  us  enjoy  their  courage  and  cleverness  without  think- 
ing of  the  purposes  with  which  these  qualities  are  dis- 
played? Defoe  takes  such  delight  in  tracing  their  bold 
expedients,  their  dexterous  intriguing  and  manoeuvring, 
that  he  seldom  allows  us  to  think  of  anything  but  the  suc- 
cess or  failure  of  their  enterprises.  Our  attention  is  con- 
centrated on  the  game,  and  we  pay  no  heed  for  the  mo- 
ment to  the  players  or  the  stakes.  Charles  Lamb  says  of 
The  Complete  English  Tradesman  that  "  such  is  the  bent 
of  the  book  to  narrow  and  to  degrade  the  heart,  that  if 
such  maxims  were  as  catching  and  infectious  as  those  of  a 
licentious  cast,  which  happily  is  not  the  case,  had  I  been 
li\ang  at  that  time,  I  certainly  should  have  recommended 
to  the  grand  jury  of  Middlesex,  who  presented  The  Fable 
of  the  Bees,  to  have  presented  this  book  of  Defoe's  in 
preference,  as  of  a  far  more  vile  and  debasing  tendency. 
Yet  if  Defoe  had  thrown  the  substance  of  this  book  into 
the  form  of  a  novel,  and  shown  us  a  tradesman  rising  by 
the  sedulous  practice  of  its  maxims  from  errand-boy  to 
L 


154  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap,  ix, 

gigantic  capitalist,  it  would  have  been  hardly  less  interest- 
ing than  his  lives  of  successful  thieves  and  tolerably  suc- 
cessful harlots,  and  its  interest  would  have  been  very  much 
of  the  same  kind,  the  interest  of  dexterous  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends. 


CHAPTER   X. 

HIS    MYSTERIOUS    END. 

"  The  best  step,"  Defoe  says,  after  descvibing  tlic  charac- 
ter of  a  deceitful  talker,  "such  a  man  can  take  is  to  lie 
on,  and  this  shows  the  singularity  of  the  crime  ;  it  is  a 
strange  expression,  but  I  shall  make  it  out ;  their  way  is,  1 
say,  to  lie  on  till  their  character  is  completely  known,  and 
then  they  can  lie  no  longer,  for  he  whom  nobody  deceives 
can  deceive  nobody,  and  the  essence  of  lying  is  removed ; 
for  the  description  of  a  lie  is  that  it  is  spoken  to  deceive, 
or  the  design  is  to  deceive.  Now  he  that  nobody  believes 
can  never  lie  any  more,  because  nobody  can  be  deceived 
by  him." 

Something  like  this  seems  to  have  happened  to  Defoe 
himself.  He  touched  the  summit  of  his  worldly  prosperi- 
tv  about  the  time  of  the  publication  of  Robinson  Crusoe 
(lYlQ).  He  was  probably  richer  then  than  he  had  been 
when  he  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  King  William,  and  was 
busy  with  projects  of  manufacture  and  trade.  He  was  no 
longer  solitary  in  journalism.  Like  his  hero,  he  had  sev- 
eral plantations,  and  companions  to  help  him  in  working 
them.  He  was  connected  with  four  journals,  and  from 
this  source  alone  his  income  must  have  been  considerable. 
Besides  this,  he  was  producing  separate  works  at  the  rate, 
on  an  average,  of  six  a  year,  some   of  them  pamphlets, 


156  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

some  of  them  considerable  volumes,  all  of  them  calculated 
to  the  wants  of  the  time,  and  several  of  them  extremely 
popular,  running  through  three  or  four  editions  in  as  many 
months.  Then  he  had  his  salary  from  the  Government, 
which  he  delicately  hints  at  in  one  of  his  extant  letters  as 
being  overdue.  Further,  the  advertisement  of  a  lost  pock- 
et-book in  1726,  containing  a  list  of  Notes  and  Bills  in 
which  Defoe's  name  twice  appears,  seems  to  show  that 
he  still  found  time  for  commercial  transactions  outside  lit- 
erature.' Altogether  Defoe  was  exceedingly  prosperous, 
dropped  all  pretence  of  poverty,  built  a  large  house  at 
Stoke  Newington,  with  stables  and  pleasure-grounds,  and 
kept  a  coach. 

We  get  a  pleasant  glimpse  of  Defoe's  life  at  this  period 
from  the  notes  of  Henry  Baker,  the  naturalist,  who  mar- 
ried one  of  his  daughters  and  received  his  assistance,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  starting  The  Universal  Spectator.  Baker, 
originally  a  bookseller,  in  1724  set  up  a  school  for  the  deaf 
and  dumb  at  Newington.  There,  according  to  the  notes 
which  he  left  of  his  courtship,  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  "  Mr.  Defoe,  a  gentleman  well  known  by  his  writings, 
who  had  newly  built  there  a  very  handsome  house,  as  a 
retirement  from  London,  and  amused  his  time  either  in  the 
cultivation  of  a  large  and  pleasant  garden,  or  in  the  pur- 
suit of  his  studies,  which  he  found  means  of  making  very 
profitable."  Defoe  "  was  now  at  least  sixty  years  of  age, 
afflicted  with  the  gout  and  stone,  but  retained  all  his 
mental  faculties  entire."  The  diarist  goes  on  to  say  that 
he  "  met  usually  at  the  tea-table  his  three  lovely  daughters, 
who  were  admired  for  their  beauty,  their  education,  and 
their  prudent  conduct;  and  if  sometimes  Mr.  Defoe's  dis- 
orders made  company  inconvenient,  Mr.  Baker  was  enter- 
*  Leeh  Life,  vol.  i.  pp.  406-7. 


X.J  HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END.  167 

tained  by  them  either  singly  or  together,  and  that  com- 
monly in  the  garden  when  the  weather  was  favourable." 
Mr.  Baker  fixed  his  choice  on  Sophia,  the  youngest  daugh- 
ter, and,  being  a  prudent  lover,  began  negotiations  about 
the  marriage  portion,  Defoe's  part  in  which  is  also  charac- 
teristic. "  He  knew  nothing  of  Mr.  Defoe's  circumstances, 
only  imagined,  from  his  very  genteel  way  of  living,  that 
he  must  be  able  to  give  his  daughter  a  decent  portion  ;  he 
(lid  not  suppose  a  large  one.  On  speaking  to  Mr.  Defoe, 
he  sanctioned  his  proposals,  and  said  he  hoped  he  should 
be  able  to  give  her  a  certain  sum  specified;  but  when 
urged  to  the  point  some  time  afterwards,  his  answer  was 
that  formal  articles  he  thought  unnecessary  ;  that  he  could 
confide  in  the  honour  of  Mr.  Baker ;  that  when  they 
talked  before,  he  did  not  know  the  true  state  of  his  own 
affairs ;  that  he  found  he  could  not  part  with  any  money 
at  present ;  but  at  his  death  his  daughter's  portion  would 
be  more  than  he  had  promised;  and  he  offered  his  own 
bond  as  security."  The  prudent  Mr.  Baker  would  not 
take  his  bond,  and  the  marriage  was  not  arranged  till  two 
years  afterwards,  when  Defoe  gave  a  bond  for  £500  pay- 
able at  his  death,  engaging  his  house  at  Newington  as 
security. 

Very  little  more  is  known  about  Defoe's  family,  except 
that  his  eldest  daughter  married  a  person  of  the  name  of 
Langley,  and  that  he  speculated  successfully  in  South  Sea 
Stock  in  the  name  of  his  second  daughter,  and  afterwards 
settled  upon  her  an  estate  at  Colchester  worth  £1020. 
His  second  son,  named  Benjamin,  became  a  journalist,  was 
the  editor  of  the  London  Journal,  and  got  into  temporary 
trouble  for  writing  a  scandalous  and  seditious  libel  in  that 
newspaper  in  1 7  2 1 .  A  writer  in  Applehee's  Journal,  whom 
Mr.  Lee  identifies  with  Defoe  himself,  commenting  upon 


168  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

this  circumstance,  denied  the  rumour  of  its  being  the  well- 
known  Daniel  Defoe  that  was  committed  for  the  oflEence. 
The  same  writer  declared  that  it  was  known  "that  the 
young  Defoe  was  but  a  stalking-horse  and  a  tool,  to  bear 
the  lash  and  the  pillory  in  their  stead,  for  his  wages ;  that 
he  was  the  author  of  the  most  scandalous  part,  but  was 
only  made  sham  proprietor  of  the  whole,  to  screen  the 
true  proprietors  from  justice." 

This  son  does  not  appear  in  a  favourable  light  in  the 
troubles  which  soon  after  fell  upon  Defoe,  when  Mist  dis- 
covered his  connexion  with  the  Government.  Foiled  in 
his  assault  upon  him.  Mist  seems  to  have  taken  revenge  by 
spreading  the  fact  abroad,  and  all  Defoe's  indignant  de- 
nials and  outcries  against  Mist's  ingratitude  do  not  seem 
to  have  cleared  him  from  suspicion.  Thenceforth  the 
printers  and  editors  of  journals  held  aloof  from  him. 
Such  is  Mr.  Lee's  fair  interpretation  of  the  fact  that  his 
connexion  with  Applebee's  Journal  terminated  abruptly  in 
March,  1726,  and  that  he  is  found  soon  after,  in  the  pref- 
ace to  a  pamphlet  on  Street  Bobberies,  complaining  that 
none  of  the  journals  will  accept  his  communications. 
"Assure  yourself,  gentle  reader,"  he  says,'  "  I  had  not  pub- 
lished my  project  in  this  pamphlet,  could  I  have  got  it  in- 
serted in  any  of  the  journals  without  feeing  the  journalists 
or  publishers.  I  cannot  but  have  the  vanity  to  think  they 
might  as  well  have  inserted  what  I  send  them,  gratis,  as 
many  things  I  have  since  seen  in  their  papers.  But  I  have 
not  only  had  the  mortification  to  find  what  I  sent  rejected, 
but  to  lose  my  originals,  not  having  taken  copies  of  what 
I  wrote."  In  this  preface  Defoe  makes  touching  allusion 
to  his  age  and  infirmities.  He  begs  his  readers  to  "  excuse 
the  vanity  of  an  over-oflScious  old  man,  if,  like  Cato,  he 
'  Lee's  Life,  vol.  i.  p.  418. 


X.J  HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END. 


159 


inquires  whether  or  no  before  he  goes  hence  and  is  no 
more,  he  can  yet  do  anything  for  the  service  of  his  coun- 
try." "The  old  man  cannot  trouble  you  long ;  take,  then 
in  good  part  his  best  intentions,  and  impute  his  defects  to 
age  and  weakness." 

This  preface  was  written  in  1728;  what  happened  to 
Defoe  in  the  following  year  is  much  more  difficult  to  un- 
derstand, and  is  greatly  compUcated  by  a  long  letter  of  his 
own  which  has  been  preserved.  Something  had  occurred, 
or  was  imagined  by  him  to  have  occurred,  which  com- 
pelled him  to  fly  from  his  home  and  go  into  hiding.  He 
was  at  work  on  a  book  to  be  entitled  The  Complete  Eng- 
lish Gentleman.  Part  of  it  was  already  in  type  when  he 
broke  off  abruptly  in  September,  1729,  and  fled.  In  Au- 
gust, 1730,  he  sent  from  a  hiding-place,  cautiously  de- 
scribed as  being  about  two  miles  from  Greenwich,  a  letter 
to  his  son-in-law,  Baker,  which  is  our  only  clue  to  what  had 
taken  place.  It  is  so  incoherent  as  to  suggest  that  the  old 
man's  prolonged  toils  and  anxieties  had  at  last  shaken  his 
reason,  though  not  his  indomitable  self-reliance.  Baker 
apparently  had  written  complaining  that  he  was  deban-ed 
from  seeing  him.  "  Depend  upon  my  sincerity  for  this," 
Defoe  answers, "  that  I  am  far  from  debarring  you.  On 
the  contrary,  it  would  be  a  greater  comfort  to  me  than  any 
I  now  enjoy  that  I  could  have  your  agreeable  visits  with 
safety,  and  could  see  both  you  and  my  dear  Sophia,  could 
it  be  without  gi\'ing  her  the  grief  of  seeing  her  father 
in  tenebris,  and  under  the  load  of  insuppoi-tablc  sorrows." 
He  gives  a  touching  description  of  the  griefs  which  arc 
preying  upon  his  mind. 

"  It  is  not  the  blow  I  received  from  a  wicked,  perjured, 
and  contemptible  enemy  that  has  broken  in  upon  my  spirit ; 
which,  as  she  well  knows,  has  carried  me  on  through  greater 


160  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

disasters  than  these.  But  it  has  been  the  injustice,  unkind- 
ness,  and,  I  must  say  inhuman,  dealing  of  my  own  son,  which 
has  both  ruined  my  family,  and  in  a  word  has  broken  my 
heart.  ...  I  depended  upon  him,  I  trusted  him,  I  gave  up 
my  two  dear  unprovided  chUdren  into  his  hands;  but  he 
has  no  compassion,  but  sujffers  them  and  their  poor  dying 
mother  to  beg  their  bread  at  his  door,  and  to  crave,  as  it 
were  an  alms,  what  he  is  bound  under  hand  and  seal,  besides 
the  most  sacred  promises,  to  supply  them  with,  himself  at 
the  same  time  living  in  a  profusion  of  plenty.  It  is  too 
much  for  me.  Excuse  my  infirmity,  I  can  say  no  more ;  my 
heart  is  too  full.  I  only  ask  one  thing  of  you  as  a  dying  re- 
quest. Stand  by  them  when  I  am  gone,  and  let  them  not  be 
wronged  while  he  is  able  to  do  them  right.  Stand  by  them 
as  a  brother ;  and  if  you  have  anything  within  you  owing  to 
my  memory,  who  have  bestowed  on  you  the  best  gift  I  have 
to  give,  let  them  not  be  injured  and  trampled  on  by  false 
pretences  and  unnatural  reflections.  I  hope  they  will  want 
no  help  but  that  of  comfort  and  council ;  but  that  they  will 
indeed  want,  being  too  easy  to  be  managed  by  words  and 
promises." 

The  postscript  to  the  letter  shows  that  Baker  had  writ- 
ten to  him  about  selling  the  house,  which,  it  may  be  re- 
membered, was  the  security  for  Mrs.  Baker's  portion,  and 
had  inquired  about  a  policy  of  assurance.  "  I  wrote  you 
a  letter  some  months  ago,  in  answer  to  one  from  you, 
about  selling  the  house;  but  you  never  signified  to  me 
whether  you  received  it.  I  have  not  the  policy  of  assur- 
ance ;  I  suppose  my  wife,  or  Hannah,  may  have  it."  Bak- 
er's ignoring  the  previous  letter  about  the  house  seems  to 
signify  that  it  was  unsatisfactory.  He  apparently  wished 
for  a  personal  interview  with  Defoe.  In  the  beginning  of 
the  present  letter  Defoe  had  said  that,  though  far  from  de- 
barring a  visit  from  his  son-in-law,  circumstances,  much  to 


x]  HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END.  161 

his  sorrow,  made  it  impossible  that  he  could  receive  a  visit 
from  anybody.  After  the  charge  against  his  son,  which 
we  have  quoted,  he  goes  on  to  explain  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  him  to  go  to  see  Mr.  Baker.  His  family  appar- 
ently had  been  ignorant  of  his  movements  for  some  time. 
"  I  am  at  a  distance  from  London,  in  Kent ;  nor  have  I  a 
lodging  in  London,  nor  have  I  been  at  that  place  in  the 
Old  Bailey  since  I  wrote  you  I  was  removed  from  it.  At 
present  I  am  weak,  having  had  some  fits  of  a  fever  that 
have  left  me  low."  He  suggests,  indeed,  a  plan  by  which 
he  might  see  his  son-in-law  and  daughter.  He  could  not 
bear  to  make  them  a  single  flying  visit.  "Just  to  come 
and  look  at  you  and  retire  immediately,  'tis  a  burden  too 
heavy.  The  parting  will  be  a  price  beyond  the  enjoy- 
ment. But  if  they  could  find  a  retired  lodging  for  him 
at  Enfield,  "  where  he  might  not  be  known,  and  might 
have  the  comfort  of  seeing  them  both  now  and  then,  upon 
such  a  circumstance  he  could  gladly  give  the  days  to  soli- 
tude to  have  the  comfort  of  half  an  hour  now  and  then 
with  them  both  for  two  or  three  weeks."  Nevertheless, 
as  if  he  considered  this  plan  out  of  the  question,  he  ends 
with  a  touching  expression  of  grief  that,  being  near  his 
journey's  end,  he  may  never  see  them  again.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  avoid  the  conclusion  that  he  did  not  wish  to  see 
his  son-in-law,  and  that  Baker  wished  to  see  him  about 
money  matters,  and  suspected  him  of  evading  an  interview. 
Was  this  evasion  the  cunning  of  incipient  madness? 
Was  his  concealing  his  hiding-place  from  his  son-in-law 
an  insane  development  of  that  self-reliant  caution,  which 
for  so  many  years  of  his  life  he  had  been  compelled  to 
make  a  habit,  in  the  face  of  the  most  serious  risks  ?  Why 
did  he  give  such  an  exaggerated  colour  to  the  infamous 
conduct  of  his  son  ?  It  is  easy  to  make  out  from  the  pas- 
38  8 


162  DANIEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

sage  I  have  quoted,  what  his  son's  guilt  really  consisted  in. 
Defoe  had  assigned  certain  property  to  the  son  to  be  held 
in  trust  for  his  wife  and  daughters.  The  son  had  not  se- 
cured them  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  provision,  but  main- 
tained them,  and  gave  them  words  and  promises,  with 
which  they  were  content,  that  he  would  continue  to  main- 
tain them.  It  was  this  that  Defoe  called  making  them 
"  beg  their  bread  at  his  door,  and  crave  as  if  it  were  an 
alms"  the  provision  to  which  they  were  legally  entitled. 
Why  did  Defoe  vent  his  grief  at  this  conduct  in  such 
strong  language  to  his  son-in-law,  at  the  same  time  enjoin- 
ing him  to  make  a  pmdent  use  of  it?  Baker  had  written 
to  his  father-in-law  making  inquiry  about  the  securities 
for  his  wife's  portion  ;  Defoe  answers  with  profuse  expres- 
sions of  affection,  a  touching  picture  of  his  old  age  and 
feebleness,  and  the  imminent  ruin  of  his  family  through 
the  possible  treachery  of  the  son  to  whom  he  has  entrust- 
ed their  means  of  support,  and  an  adjuration  to  his  son-in- 
law  to  stand  by  them  with  comfort  and  counsel  when  he 
is  gone.  The  inquiry  about  the  securities  he  dismisses  in 
a  postscript.  He  wall  not  sell  the  house,  and  he  does  not 
know  who  has  the  policy  of  assurance. 

One  thing  and  one  thing  only  shines  clearly  out  of  the 
obscurity  in  which  Defoe's  closing  years  are  wrapt  —  his 
earnest  desire  to  make  provision  for  those  members  of  his 
family  who  could  not  provide  for  themselves.  The  pur- 
suit from  which  he  was  in  hiding,  was  in  all  probability 
the  pursuit  of  creditors.  We  have  seen  that  his  income 
must  have  been  large  from  the  year  1718  or  thereabouts, 
till  his  utter  loss  of  credit  in  journalism  about  the  year 
1726;  but  he  may  have  had  old  debts.  It  is  diflBcult  to 
explain  otherwise  why  he  should  have  been  at  such  pains, 
when  he  became  prosperous,  to  assign  property  to  his  chil- 


X.]  HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END.  163 

dren.  There  is  evidence,  as  early  as  1720,  of  his  niakiiu; 
over  property  to  his  daughter  Hannah,  and  the  k>tter  from 
which  I  have  quoted  shows  that  he  did  not  liold  his  Now- 
ington  estate  in  his  own  name.  In  this  letter  he  speaks 
of  a  perjured,  contemptible  enemy  as  the  cause  of  his  mis- 
fortunes. Mr.  Lee  conjectures  that  this  was  Mist,  that 
Mist  had  succeeded  in  embroiling  him  with  the  Govern- 
ment by  convincing  them  of  treachery  in  his  secret  ser- 
vices, and  that  this  was  the  hue  and  cry  from  whicli  he 
fled.  But  it  is  hardly  conceivable  that  the  Government 
could  have  listened  to  charges  brought  by  a  man  whom 
they  had  driven  from  the  country  for  his  seditious  prac- 
tices. It  is  much  more  likely  that  Mist  and  his  support- 
ers had  sufficient  interest  to  instigate  the  revival  of  old 
pecuniary  claims  against  Defoe. 

It  would  have  been  open  to  suppose  that  the  fears 
which  made  the  old  man  a  homeless  wanderer  and  fugi- 
tive for  the  last  two  years  of  his  life,  were  wholly  imagi- 
nary, but  for  the  circumstances  of  his  death.  He  died  of 
a  lethargy  on  the  26th  of  April,  1731,  at  a  lodging  in 
Ropemaker's  Alley,  Moorfields.  In  September,  1733,  as 
the  books  in  Doctors'  Commons  show,  letters  of  adminis- 
tration on  his  goods  and  chattels  were  granted  to  Mary 
Brooks,  widow,  a  creditrix,  after  summoning  in  official 
form  the  next  of  kin  to  appear.  Now,  if  Defoe  had  been 
driven  from  his  home  by  imaginary  fears,  and  had  baffled 
with  the  cunning  of  insane  suspicion  the  efforts  of  his 
family  to  bring  him  back,  there  is  no  apparent  reason  wliy 
they  should  not  have  claimed  his  effects  after  his  death. 
He  could  not  have  died  unknown  to  them,  for  place  and 
time  were  recorded  in  the  newspapers.  His  letter  to  his 
son-in-law,  expressing  the  warmest  affection  for  all  his 
family  except  his  son,  is  sufficient  to  prevent  the  horrible 


164  DAOTEL  DEFOE.  [chap. 

notion  that  he  might  have  been  driven  forth  like  Lear  by 
his  undutif ul  children  after  he  had  parted  his  goods  among 
them.  If  they  had  been  capable  of  such  unnatural  con- 
duct, they  would  not  have  failed  to  secure  his  remaining 
property.  Why,  then,  were  his  goods  and  chattels  left 
to  a  creditrix?  Mr.  Lee  ingeniously  suggests  that  Mary 
Brooks  was  the  keeper  of  the  lodging  where  he  died,  and 
that  she  kept  his  personal  property  to  pay  rent  and  per- 
haps funeral  expenses.  A  much  simpler  explanation,  which 
covers  most  of  the  known  facts  without  casting  any  un- 
warranted reflections  upon  Defoe's  children,  is  that  when 
his  last  illness  overtook  him  he  was  still  keeping  out  of  the 
way  of  his  creditors,  and  that  everything  belonging  to  him 
in  his  own  name  was  legally  seized.  But  there  are  doubts 
and  difficulties  attending  any  explanation. 

Mr.  Lee  has  given  satisfactory  reasons  for  believing  that 
Defoe  did  not,  as  some  of  his  biographers  have  supposed, 
die  in  actual  distress.  Ropemaker's  Alley  in  Moorfields 
was  a  highly  respectable  street  at  the  beginning  of  last 
century ;  a  lodging  there  was  far  from  squalid.  The  prob- 
ability is  that  Defoe  subsisted  on  his  pension  from  the 
Government  during  his  last  two  years  of  wandering;  and 
suffering  though  he  was  from  the  infirmities  of  age,  yet 
wandering  was  less  of  a  hardship  than  it  would  have  been 
to  other  men,  to  one  who  had  been  a  wanderer  for  the 
greater  part  of  his  life.  At  the  best  it  was  a  painful  and 
dreary  ending  for  so  vigorous  a  life,  and  unless  we  piti- 
lessly regard  it  as  a  retribution  for  his  moral  defects,  it  is 
some  comfort  to  think  that  the  old  man's  infirmities  and 
anxieties  were  not  aggravated  by  the  pressure  of  hopeless 
and  helpless  poverty.  Nor  do  I  think  that  he  was  as  dis- 
tressed as  he  represented  to  his  son-in-law  by  apprehen- 
sions of  ruin  to  his  family  after  his  death,  and  suspicions 


X.J  HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END.  168 

of  the  honesty  of  his  son's  intentions.  There  is  a  half  in- 
sane tone  about  his  letter  to  Mr.  Baker,  but  a  certain  lucth- 
od  may  be  discerned  in  its  incoherencics.  My  own  read- 
ing of  it  is  that  it  was  a  clever  evasion  of  his  son-in-law's 
attempts  to  make  sure  of  his  share  of  the  inherit^ince.  W*- 
have  seen  how  shifty  Defoe  was  in  the  original  bargaining 
about  his  daughter's  portion,  and  we  know  from  his  novels 
what  his  views  were  about  fortune-hunters,  and  with  what 
delight  he  dwelt  upon  the  arts  of  outwitting  them.  He 
probably  considered  that  his  youngest  daughter  was  suffi- 
ciently provided  for  by  her  man'iage,  and  he  had  set  his 
heart  upon  making  provision  for  her  unmarried  sisters. 
The  letter  seems  to  me  to  be  evidence,  not  so  much  of 
fears  for  their  future  welfare,  as  of  a  resolution  to  leave 
them  as  much  as  he  could.  Two  little  circumstances  seem 
to  show  that,  in  spite  of  his  professions  of  affection,  there 
was  a  coolness  between  Defoe  and  his  son-in-law.  He 
wrote  only  the  prospectus  and  the  first  article  for  Baker's 
paper,  the  Universal  Spectator,  and  when  he  died.  Baker 
contented  himself  with  a  simple  intimation  of  the  fact. 

If  my  reading  of  this  letter  is  right,  it  might  stand  as  a 
type  of  the  most  strongly  marked  characteristic  in  Defoe's 
political  writings.  It  was  a  masterly  and  utterly  unscrupu- 
lous piece  of  diplomacy  for  the  attainment  of  a  just  and 
benevolent  end.  This  may  appear  strange  after  what  I 
have  said  about  Defoe's  want  of  honesty,  yet  one  cannot 
help  coming  to  this  conclusion  in  looking  back  at  his  polit- 
ical career  before  his  character  underwent  its  final  degrada- 
tion. He  was  a  great,  a  truly  great  liar,  perhaps  the  great- 
est liar  that  ever  lived.  His  dishonesty  went  too  deep  to 
be  called  superficial,  yet,  if  we  go  deeper  still  in  his  rich 
and  strangely  mixed  nature,  we  come  upon  stubborn  founda- 
tions of  conscience.     Among  contemporary  comments  od 


166  DANIEL  DEFOE.  fcHAP. 

the  occasion  of  his  death,  there  was  one  which  gave  perfect 
expression  to  his  political  position.  "His  knowledge  of 
men,  especially  those  in  high  life  (with  whom  he  was  for- 
merly very  conversant)  had  weakened  his  attachment  to  any 
political  party  ;  but,  in  the  main,  he  was  in  the  interest  of 
civil  and  religious  liberty,  in  behalf  of  which  he  appeared 
on  several  remarkable  occasions."  The  men  of  the  time 
with  whom  Defoe  was  brought  into  contact,  were  not  good 
examples  to  him.  The  standard  of  political  morality  was 
probably  never  so  low  in  England  as  during  his  lifetime. 
Places  were  dependent  on  the  favour  of  the  Sovereign,  and 
the  Sovereign's  own  seat  on  the  throne  was  insecure ;  there 
was  no  party  cohesion  to  keep  politicians  consistent,  and  ev- 
ery man  fought  for  his  own  hand.  Defoe  had  been  behind 
the  scenes,  witnessed  many  curious  changes  of  service,  and 
heard  many  authentic  tales  of  jealousy,  intrigue,  and  treach- 
ery. He  had  seen  Jacobites  take  office  under  William, 
join  zealously  in  the  scramble  for  his  favours,  and  enter 
into  negotiations  with  the  emissaries  of  James  either  upon 
some  fancied  slight,  or  from  no  other  motive  than  a  desire 
to  be  safe,  if  by  any  chance  the  sceptre  should  again  change 
hands.  Under  Anne  he  had  seen  Whig  turn  Tory  and 
Tory  turn  Whig,  and  had  seen  statesmen  of  the  highest 
rank  hold  out  one  hand  to  Hanover  and  another  to  St. 
Germains.  The  most  single-minded  man  he  had  met  had 
been  King  William  himself,  and  of  his  memory  he  always 
spoke  with  the  most  affectionate  honour.  Shifty  as  Defoe 
was,  and  admirably  as  he  used  his  genius  for  circumstantial 
invention  to  cover  his  designs,  there  was  no  other  states- 
man of  his  generation  who  remained  more  true  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Revolution,  and  to  the  cause  of  civil  and  re- 
ligious freedom.  No  other  public  man  saw  more  clearly 
what  was  for  the  good  of  the  country,  or  pursued  it  more 


X.]  HIS  MYSTERIOUS  END.  167 

steadily.  Even  when  he  was  the  active  scn'ant  df  Ilarlcy, 
and  turned  round  upon  men  who  rcs^ardcd  hini  as  their 
own,  the  part  which  he  played  was  to  pave  the  way  for  his 
patron's  accession  to  oflBce  under  the  llousc  of  Ilanovcr. 
Defoe  did  as  much  as  any  one  man,  partly  by  secret  in- 
trigue, partly  through  the  public  press,  perhaps  as  much  as 
any  ten  men  outside  those  in  the  immediate  direction  of 
affairs,  to  accomplish  the  two  great  objects  which  William 
bequeathed  to  English  statesmanship — the  union  of  Eiilj- 
land  and  Scotland,  and  the  succession  to  the  United  King- 
dom of  a  Protestant  dynasty.  Apart  from  the  field  of 
high  politics,  his  powerful  advocacy  was  enlisted  in  favour 
of  almost  every  practicable  schemQ  of  social  improvement 
that  came  to  the  front  in  his  time.  Defoe  cannot  be  held 
up  as  an  exemplar  of  moral  conduct,  yet  if  he  is  judged  by 
the  measures  that  he  laboured  for  and  not  by  the  means 
that  he  employed,  few  Englishmen  have  lived  more  de- 
serving than  he  of  their  country's  gratitude.  He  may  have 
been  self-seeking  and  vain-glorious,  but  in  his  political  life 
self-seeking  and  vain-glory  were  elevated  by  their  alliance 
with  higher  and  wider  aims.  Defoe  was  a  wonderful  mixt- 
ure of  Ivnave  and  patriot.  Sometimes  pure  knave  seems 
to  be  uppermost,  sometimes  pure  patriot ;  but  the  mixture 
is  so  complex,  and  the  energy  of  the  man  so  restless,  that 
it  almost  passes  human  skill  to  unravel  the  two  element's. 
The  author  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  is  entitled  to  the  benefit 
of  every  doubt. 


III 

i' "111  111 

CODObllOMD 

